


The Girl Abides

by Alien_Ariel



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Usage, Ecto-Penis, Ecto-Tongue, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, I try to do humor too, Lots of resets, Mostly Fluff, Reader Is Not Frisk, Some angst, Soulmates, apologies for the absence, assume all characters appear, author has returned from the dead, author's first smut, can't really say it's a slow burn though, eventual post-pacifist route, eventual smut? (if I can learn how to write it), human magic, lots of swears, making the magic stuff up as I go, sans retains memories, smut happened, smut's in chapter 13, so feedback is super appreciated, soul bonding, we're finishing this story don't worry, writer is bad at puns so they're used sparingly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alien_Ariel/pseuds/Alien_Ariel
Summary: Sans had never had a problem maintaining his mask before, but several resets of this tripe was enough to break him. He really didn’t know what he’d do. What could he do? Everything felt so hopeless.And then, there she was: tumbling through the door to the Ruins when he’d been expecting Frisk. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t given up yet. Because he subconsciously knew he’d see her again.Her SOUL just didn’t know when to give up. Even when reality seemed to be crumbling, the girl abides.





	1. Perseverance

**Author's Note:**

> SO. This is my first Undertale fic (and only my second on this site, forgive my ignorance). Comments are great because I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Also, this chapter is long and in 3rd person, but subsequent chapters will be a little different.
> 
> If I may suggest a song for this chapter, I would recommend Avalanche by Walk the Moon.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECBhz_1AaSM
> 
> Enjoy!

He couldn’t believe he’d let himself trust it the first time. Looking back, Sans felt like a complete fool for ever believing that the resets had ended.

The first time he’d passed through the barrier with his friends, he’d felt so sure, so right, in his knowledge that things would be different from now on. He could move on. He could progress.

Stupid.

Progress didn’t exist anymore. All that there was now was the reset, and the crushing apathy he felt in the interim.

God, the sinking feeling in his SOUL upon waking back up in his room that first time; he’d never forget it. They’d been topside for only a week before he found himself back in his filthy room, exactly as he’d left it in the Underground, his brother pounding on his door with an ecstatic fervor that made it all the more real. All the more horrible.

He was back. Again. Nothing had changed. Even a “good ending” couldn’t break the cycle.

It was all a lie.

Even still, it took a few more resets, a few more tantalizing glimpses of the surface being ripped away, for Sans to fully understand. On the fourth trip past the barrier, he didn’t even bother to go through the motions with his friends; he left in the direction of the nearest bar as soon as he could, to drink as much as he could before the week was up. What did it matter, when no one would remember his actions?

Only he would recall. No one at all from the Underground showed any cognizance of the resets; how they were all trapped in a self-perpetuating cycle; that everyone was saying and doing exactly what they’d said and done on repeat for weeks now. Maybe years.

Sans was alone.

He’d worry that this was hell, were he not certain that he was very much alive.

…He’d checked.

And maybe it was this intense isolation that drew him to her, the unsure girl at the pretentious basement lounge Sans now frequented upon every trip topside.

She’d been strumming listlessly on an acoustic guitar. As Sans watched her for a moment, the look on her face was less nervousness and more—what was it—disillusionment? She looked like there was something else she’d rather be doing, like her mind was somewhere else.

She was far away.

It was the first time Sans had noticed someone looking anything aside from ridiculously cheerful. Everything about the surface was so fake, all sunshine (literally) and good-will; it was so contrived that Sans mocked his own blindness to this façade at first.

If this were reality, no one would be so immediately accepting of literal monsters appearing out of a mountain to stake their claim. It should have been a dead giveaway.

Reality means uncertainty. And it takes time.

That first night, Sans had watched the girl perform a litany of what he assumed were popular songs. She seemed so bored that it almost tickled him; he clapped enthusiastically for her, because it weren’t as if she’d remember him embarrassing himself for her sake.

Imagine his intrigue, following another fucking reset, when Sans went back to that candle-lit bar to find the girl playing her guitar again (no surprise there), but this time with a bit more ardor.

It wasn’t as though no one’s demeanor ever changed between resets, but to Sans’s knowledge, nothing on the surface was ever different. It was a well-crafted representation of what monsters wanted to find topside, should they ever find a way to break free of the Underground; but it was just that: a glossy advertisement. It wasn’t real.

Nothing ever deviated.

At yet, there she was playing some insipid pop song with more of a presence than before.

He had some tests to run.

And again, Sans looked back and scolded himself for getting so worked up. It was as though he set himself up for disappointment. Because not only had the girl obviously not recognized him as the one person who paid her performance any attention, she had reacted to his cheering her on in exactly the same way as she had previously.

She had looked up from staring at the frets of the shabby guitar to him, seated on a bar stool across the room, with a look of bewilderment and curiosity, like she hadn’t fully been aware she was even on the makeshift stage. Or maybe it was that she didn’t think anyone from the crowd even saw her there.

But he was there.

And he kept going back.

In his mind, he’d lost count of many resets it was before he talked to the girl; he kept it all recorded in a journal, sure, but he tried to keep the count out of his thoughts, lest he dissolve into the proverbial prisoner scratching days into a wall.

She’d just finished her set of songs, and Sans was preparing to intercept her on her way out the door when she genuinely surprised him by taking the stool next to his. He watched haphazardly as she coolly ordered a Jack and Coke.

What was happening?

“I’m glad you enjoyed the set,” the girl very clearly addressed him, despite maintaining her steady gaze somewhere behind the bar, “But to be honest, I really don’t like playing.”

“oh?” Sans intonated simply after an entire beat of silence. He realized that, despite (more or less) spending many nights with her, this was still the first time he’d heard her speak; she didn’t sing during her set. How had he not noticed that?

“Yeah, not really my thing.” She affirmed with a little shrug and another sip of her drink. Her voice was low and lilting, and Sans caught himself thinking she’d probably sound very nice should she choose to sing along.

“so it doesn’t _resonate_ with you?” He’d made the pun without even meaning to. It had been a while since he’d even wanted to; his spirit just wasn’t in it anymore.

She snorted into her drink and covered her mouth, very clearly in embarrassment. But when she glanced at him for the first time, he couldn’t stop the genuine grin that tugged at his mask for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Sans had let himself stop being shy after that reset. Because, yes, he realized it wasn’t just indifference that had kept him from interacting with her, although that was a factor too. But what really had held him back was his own skittishness.

He hadn’t felt uncertain about anything in so long because everything was always the same now, and that’s what he’d continue to tell himself as he sat beside the girl next time, sweating profusely. This time, she’d walked over to chat him up seemingly out of nowhere.

It was as though they’d swapped personalities from the first time Sans had ventured into the bar: she was gregarious and relaxed, while he was hesitant and awkward.

So awkward.

Despite everything, he’d turned up again the following night. Would he see her? He’d never come back to the same place twice in one reset before.

But yes, she was there at the bar again. There was an entire bottle of Jack Daniels in front of her and her guitar case was noticeably absent.

“i’d hate to strike a _chord_ with you, but you look a little _strung_ out.” Sans tried to keep the levity in his voice, despite examining the girl with a scrutinizing closeness. Did this always happen on the second surface-night of the reset? Had she actually been miserable the entire time, and he hadn’t noticed? How had he not noticed?

“Didn’t have it in me to play tonight,” She answered, seeming to know already who was talking to her. Sans took his usual seat beside her and she waved the bartender over for another empty rocks glass. She dexterously poured a double of the whiskey and handed it to him before adding, “I was hoping you might turn up and we could hang out instead.”

“you have a habit of drinking heavily with strangers in seedy bars?” Sans cheekily posed her the question that had been rumbling in the back of his skull as he accepted the drink. He’d meant it to be teasing, but some of his genuine curiosity might have slipped through, as the girl scowled at him slightly.

“Firstly, no. I never talk to anyone here. And secondly, this place is not seedy; it’s full of college-aged hipsters.” She threw her thumb over her shoulder at the rest of the bar to make her point, “Just do me a solid and don’t hit on me tonight.” She added quietly, almost like she hadn’t meant to.

“i don’t usually make promises,” Sans started with a shit-eating grin, implying that it wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibilities, but at the look she gave him added, “but i can do that for you.”

“Thanks.” She sighed profoundly, as though the sound came from a place deep within her. Sans looked her over with a critical eye; he couldn’t say for sure, but something was different about her. Or maybe he was just willing himself to see something, anything, when there was nothing to see.

“rough night?” He asked behind a conversational tone, but she seemed to see right through it.

“I broke up with my boyfriend. I’m, like, 97 percent sure I just broke the heart of someone who legitimately cared about me.” She supplied without reservation, and Sans tried not to be stunned. Before he could let his mind race (Did she always do this, every reset? Had it always been that way, or were things finally starting to shift? Oh god- she’d had a boyfriend and he’d thought about trying to pick her up--), she was lifting her glass to his.

“To _pour_ decisions.” She emphasized the word to make it abundantly clear that it was a joke. The grin on Sans’s face split with genuine glee as he realized it.

“did you really just—”

“I can’t take credit for it,” She said quickly, “It’s a song.” She had tried to laugh before taking a long drag from her glass, but Sans could remember the absolute lack of humor in it.

It made a sense of fraternity tug at something inside him.

The resets kept on like nothing had changed, and Sans kept up his act despite it all. He didn’t know what Frisk was looking for to keep reverting time like they were; what more could they possibly want?

Or maybe it wasn’t Frisk doing it at all. Maybe this was just his reality now: a world where he spent his time pretending; a world where he was nothing more than the mask he put up; a world where he only felt like he had one friend, and he didn’t even know her name.

Cautious by nature, Sans tried to restrain himself. Don’t make it messy.

He had no idea when it happened, and, if he were being honest with himself, he was kind of ashamed. At first. But then, it happened again on the next reset and she responded as though she’d been waiting for it.

And on and on, reset after reset Sans found himself at the girl’s apartment. In her living room watching documentaries about space. In her kitchen sharing pizza.

And eventually, in her bed.

The first time, he’d felt so dirty that he’d left as soon as she’d fallen asleep. Why had he done it? It felt so wrong, because even though he would remember it (probably forever, he thought pleasantly), she wouldn’t. She’d never remember.

Except, it kind of looked like she kind of did. Maybe? Sans didn’t want to give himself false hope.

He couldn’t keep away. At the next reset, he’d turned up at their bar and sat at their seats and ordered both of their drinks, ready to introduce himself to her again.

But she’d come right up to him, her smile reflecting in her warm eyes, and hugged him like she was greeting an old friend.

She spent the whole time chatting with him, guffawing at his stupid jokes and supporting herself against his shoulder, like there hadn’t even been a reset. She still didn’t remember, but there was an impression there. A feeling: not as strong as déjà vu, but on the cusp of familiarity.

But then, Sans reminded himself, he’d gone too far. Gone too deep. Hoped too much.

Lying in the pale glow of his last night before the reset, Sans watched her face. Why did he feel like he had to commit every freckle to memory? He ran a boney hand through her shock of bright hair, loosening a knot at the back of her neck. He stared into her honey-amber eyes when she woke at the sensation, and he intently regarded the way her mouth curved coyly under his gaze.

“Find whatever it is you’re looking for, there?” She teased easily.

When she said it like that, Sans almost felt like he had. And then he asked what had been on his mind for several resets now.

Of course, she couldn’t really understand the significance of letting him see her SOUL, even if he took an entire cycle to attempt to explain it. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, then. It wasn’t fair to ask her for such intimacy when she didn’t fully comprehend it.

And now that he’d asked, Sans just wanted her to say no and let him off easy.

But of course, he should have known, she had very readily agreed. Maybe she even seemed eager? Again, Sans told himself that he had just seen what he’d wanted to.

But he went ahead with it anyway, pulling the girl’s SOUL from her chest with every ounce of reverence he could summon forth. The purple glow of her SOUL filled the entire room, bathing the bedsheets in the kind of color Sans had seen at sunset on the beach with his friends. Back when he’d been new to the surface. Back when he’d been so full of hope about the future.

Fuck, how long had it been?

Suddenly, with her SOUL hanging in the space between them, it wasn’t enough. Sans took the hand not in her hair and gave her SOUL the gentlest of caresses, eliciting a soft sigh from her.

Wait.

Tendrils of sweet purple smoke coiled out from her SOUL to almost wrap around his finger while, simultaneously, he felt the magic of his own SOUL try to push forth. His breath hitched at the feeling.

For a while now, Sans had been aware that very little felt real to him anymore. It was like he was in a simulation of life, made worse by the knowledge that it actually wasn’t, no matter how flat and lifeless everything was. And then there was her, the only other real person. The only one that didn’t feel like some doll, some puppet, repeating the same words and doing the same things reset after reset after reset.

But now, with her SOUL enveloping his hand in the most genuine and gentle of sensations, Sans realized that it wasn’t just him that felt that way. He _had_ made an impression on her; he could even see it beginning to grow within her SOUL.

What’s more, he could feel that connection mirrored back inside himself. She wasn’t just the only person in this world, she was _becoming_ his world.

He passed her SOUL back into her chest and fretfully fell asleep beside her, for once actually willing the reset to hurry.

He’d changed her.

She wouldn’t ever know why she was suddenly different, because she wouldn’t ever remember him.

He couldn’t see her again.

When Sans opened his eyes to the numb familiarity of Papyrus rapping against his door, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad. He wanted to hate himself because that would make it easier to stay away next time he made it topside.

But all he felt was empty. Numb. Desolate.

And, again, so alone.

Resets came and went. Sans chronicled it all in his journal, as always. Almost every cycle now ended with him and his friends on the surface, which was like a punch in the gut. He’d gone back to spending the time with Papyrus: going to the beach, test-driving the bright red sports car, attending Mettaton’s debut show.

But now that he’d seen behind the curtain of it all, so to speak, it all seemed so much more ludicrous and fake. It was so obvious. It was maddening.

Sans had never had a problem maintaining his mask before, but several resets of this tripe was enough to break him. He’d gotten so bad at hiding how he felt that his friends had actually started to comment on his demeanor.

He really didn’t know what he’d do. What could he do? Everything felt so hopeless. Sans knew that a lot of these feelings stemmed from the impression on his SOUL; he felt even more alone now because he knew she was out there. Even so, there was no going about it. Changing her when she couldn’t remember why was wrong. He was wrong for doing it, even if he hadn’t meant to.

And then.

He really should have known. He knew her. You can’t spend so much time with a person and not walk away with some kind of inkling as to how they’d react if you suddenly left them.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t given up yet. Because he subconsciously knew he’d see her again.

But he could honestly say her coming to him was a shock.

And still, there she was: tumbling through the door to the Ruins when he’d been expecting Frisk. Well, her SOUL _was_ the color of perseverance: he could still see that bright purple glow in his mind’s eye. He could still feel it. Her SOUL just didn’t know when to give up.

Even when reality seemed to be crumbling, the girl abides.


	2. Flaw in the Code

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for the comments and kudos, they really encourage me; I've really enjoyed getting back into writing. This chapter switches to the reader's perspective and will probably stay that way for the remainder of the story (unless something changes, but I'll let you know).
> 
> As for a music recommendation, this chapter would pair well with Gasoline by Halsey.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRHNi3QfFlE
> 
> Enjoy! :D

Well. Here I am.

As I sat on the edge of the chasm, legs swinging precariously into the dark expanse before me, I wondered what the fuck was going on in my mind that this had apparently been the solution it thought was going to fix everything. The darkness seemed to stretch on forever, far, far below me. It was one of those intense depths that, had you dropped a rock down it, you’d have just enough time to wonder if you’d missed hearing it reach the bottom before it would subsequently echo a response back to you.

I reflexively scooted a little closer to the edge to look even further down, eyes straining for any kind of light, for some semblance of the bottom, or movement? Maybe even a structure? This hole seemed so deliberate, so near to being perfectly cylindrical that it looked like a giant drill or laser had carved it out.

The strangeness of it spoke to my inner curiosity, and something deep inside me pressed me to peek further still over the edge. The closer I got, the more sure I seemed to become. There was something down there; I just had to fall in. That’s all. Just jump.

Wait, was I suicidal?

At that thought, I recoiled from the edge and pulled my legs back onto solid ground. Suddenly even just letting my feet hover in that inky nothingness, so disturbingly warm and inviting, felt like I was tempting something to happen. Like _I_ was being tempted.

This drop would definitely, for sure kill me. Like, 100 percent end me.

I really couldn’t even guess at how far the chasm went on for, but now wasn’t the time to try to parse it out. There was no room for chance here. If I jumped in, like my mind was kind of itching for me to do, I would absolutely kill myself. That was certain.

So if that’s the facts and I still felt the need to dive in, did that mean I wanted to die?

I didn’t really think that was the case.

No, I _knew_ it wasn’t the case. Don’t entertain the idea.

I didn’t really like to deal in absolutes; everything had shades of meaning. The way I saw it, as there was no way to account for everything and all possibilities, no human could ever be 100 percent certain about anything. Or maybe I just liked to believe that because I personally never felt totally certain of anything.

But this was different. Wanting to die (or not) had to be a black and white situation.

Ok. Take a breath. Think it over.

I mean, yeah, something was definitely up with my head recently. I constantly felt like I was in two places at once, and neither was satisfying. I felt fractured. I felt like I was missing something, but I had no idea what it could be.

What was worse, I had even less of an idea what was suddenly so different in my life.

I had this feeling hanging around me, like some kind of mist obscuring my vision. Just a feeling. It didn’t really hurt me. I wasn’t depressed. My behavior hadn’t changed at all. But despite it all, something in me felt off.

I realized that I was lonely.

What a strange sensation to wake up one day and feel like someone had walked out on me, when it was actually me walking out on the people in my life. I was pulling away from friends. I hadn’t called my parents in weeks. I’d even broken up with my boyfriend on a – a whim, was it? It had felt like I had a reason behind it, but that reason had slipped my mind somehow; I couldn’t give him a motive for it, and, in doing so, had probably broken his heart.

I was, like, 97 percent sure of that.

I’d talked to him right before coming up to this chasm, far up in the dense woodlands of Mt. Ebott. That look on his face, so inconsolable and, frankly, confused… I had to escape it. I had to escape the feeling in my heart of abject emptiness, as though I didn’t feel anything at all for doing it. It felt like an old hurt, like a wound that had healed years ago.

Why did it feel like I’d done it so long ago?

And again, I found myself looking into the chasm. When had I moved toward it again? My mind poked at me, telling me to do it, to find out what down there was calling to me.

Just do it.

You know you want to know.

Go find whatever it is you’re looking for.

What do you have to lose?

This should have been the thought that brought me back to my senses, but instead I found myself agreeing with whatever voice was needling me to just give in.

But, as I stood to my full height and stepped forward into the chasm, I realized that I wasn’t giving in.

I was just letting go.

So down I fell, feeling a bit like Alice as the weirdly smooth wall of rock rushed past me. Wait, was that a pillar? Was that ivy now climbing up the rock?

HEY.

A tingly, prickling sensation overcame me just as I noticed the changing surroundings. It seemed to hold me by my back, allowing me to take one last look back into the surface world, before I phased through whatever it was. My descent slowed immensely and I landed in a bed of flowers with little more than a gentle grunt.

Ok, so not dead after all.

Very much alive, in fact.

Well. Curiosity sated.

…

Uh.

Hold on.

Where was I?

Opening my eyes, I stared up into bright white oblivion. I could kind of tell that I was looking up through a massive hole, situated at the bottom and in, more or less, the center. A tickling at my ear made me swat a hand sharply at whatever had caused it, only to find a golden flower tenderly brushing against the side of my face. Pushing up onto my elbows, I once again glanced upwards.

Is that where I’d come from? Had I fallen?

I couldn’t see anything past the blinding glare that filtered in and seemed to fill every bit of space in the cylindrical hole (well that was kind of odd, how was it so perfectly round?). It was a bit like staring into the sun, but not in a painful way. Just kind of a—distracting way? Something about the glow made me feel like I should turn my gaze somewhere else.

Don’t look up here, it seemed to imply.

Sitting upright among the flowers, I tried very hard to concentrate on how I had gotten wherever it was I’d found myself. Everything was in a haze, hanging around my head like a cloud. And the harder I tried to think back, the more masked my memories became. Like a car window fogging up in the cold of late fall.

But, upon looking around my surroundings, I seemed to feel more at ease—less desperate to figure out what had happened.

Looking around the clearing, full of marble columns, slightly yellowed from age and exposure, something like recognition stirred within me. Something about this was—familiar?

Fuck. Trying to piece anything together was frustrating. I was grasping at straws.

Without even a last glance above me, I picked myself up, brushed the dirt off my back, and moved forward toward the obvious exit. The archway, flanked on either side by more of the ivy-covered pillars, was grand and regal. I realized that I should probably feel intimidated, but I didn’t. Not really.

Through a darkened room and another similar arch, I found myself at the base of an imposing brick wall. Elegant marble staircases ran along the sides of the expanse, leading indisputably up to a darkened doorway. Reddish leaves scrapped across the rough ground, blown forth by the wind from the cavern behind me, to pool against the base of the stairs.

A plaque above the doorway bared the word HOME, and nothing else. Upon looking at the worn stone tablet, the word seemed to resonate within me.

Onwards, then.

The next room, infinitesimally smaller than the other caverns, was even more eerily quiet; a breath of wind occasionally whistled cheerfully through the doorway, which settled my nerves slightly as I looked around. Another stone tablet hung on the wall beside a curved door, which had an inlay of some unfamiliar, winged sigil. Turning instead to the tablet, I squinted at the chipped etchings.

“Only the fearless may proceed,” I read aloud to break up the vacuum of soundlessness, “Brave ones, foolish ones. Both walk not the middle road.”

Ok then.

“A bit cryptic,” I mumbled to myself, but I also realized that I shouldn’t expect anything different from a place like this. Gotta think through it, then.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I turned to critically survey the room. It was empty upon first glance, but closer inspection revealed six raised tiles by the far wall and a bright yellow switch on the other neighboring wall. Seemed like a puzzle maybe?

I had no idea why that thought occurred to me, as it sounded kind of weird the very second after. But maybe?

What was the harm in trying?

I decided to check the door before playing out any other scenario, and, yep, no handle. That would be too fucking easy, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t budge at all. And, what’s more, it even gave me a little zap when I tried to shoulder it open.

“Well _fine_ , then.”

With the tiles set in three rows of two, an obvious path drawn down the middle two tiles, it wasn’t hard to imagine what needed done. I tapped a foot lightly against the four corner tiles and pulled the yellow switch down with only a slightly embarrassing groan of effort.

The sigil on the door flashed brightly once, twice, three times before the door split down the middle and swung inwards on itself.

And on we go.

The next room was spacious and surprisingly bright. Where was the light source that could illuminate such an expanse?

The tunnel-like room ran perpendicularly to the previous one, once again bottlenecking at the opposite end into a narrower hallway. Down the center of the room was another worn path, which led to two wooden bridges, which carried over two slowly meandering canals of water.

It was now that I noticed something flowing down the first stream: something starkly white and staring straight up at the ceiling far above it. Oh! Whatever it was had a face!

“Shit!” I breathed as I ran forward to help whatever had gotten caught up in the water. It was by no means a fast current, but maybe whatever it was had been hurt and couldn’t help itself out.

I was just a few feet away when the creature hit the end of the canal, which at that point turned into a gutter and dropped off, only for it to disappear and rematerialize back at the head of the stream a moment later. Watching in confusion, I think I might have heard the creature release a timid “wheee” as it floated back down the current.

“Uh. Hello?” I attempted to engage it in conversation, which finally prompted it to look at me and frown in a matter more akin to shock than sadness. He disappeared a moment later, rematerializing in the next hallway behind what looked like—holy shit, were those _spikes_?

I made some kind of strangled noise to get its attention when it looked likely to vanish again, and it stayed put, perhaps feeling safer now that it had a barrier between us.

“I am really confused and—I guess lost, too?” I called across the room, keeping my feet firmly planted, “Any help you could give me would be super… helpful.”

The ghost (I finally realized what it obviously seemed to be, how fucking crazy is that) just stared at me with a hedging interest, their wavering pupils apparent even from the distance.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I added, trying to calm their nerves, “You were probably having a lot of fun and I kind of butted in.”

Still the ghost watched me with that hesitant frown, but they hadn’t left yet, so maybe talking through things was working. I hazarded a look around the room again, assuming progression meant needing to solve another puzzle of similar caliber to the last.

“It took me a while to figure out the puzzle in the other room. There’s probably another in here, huh?” I asked conversationally, finally spotting the yellow switches, two of which were very clearly denoted with several unsubtle markings. I reined in my pride and continued, “I bet you know exactly how to solve it. Do you think you could give me a hint?”

The ghost continued to stare without so much as a blink, but my encouragement might have softened them up a bit.

“You’re a human, right?” They asked suddenly in a feeble, echoing voice. The question struck me. Was that a big deal wherever I was? And there was also the implication that whatever they were, human was not it.

Ok, maybe I should try to have some tact. Just in case.

“I mean, I haven’t checked yet today…” I trailed off from the half-answer, squeezing my shoulder and diverting my eyes. But as soon as I looked back at the ghost, their face made the truth come forth, “But yeah. Pretty sure I’m human.”

More silence.

“A human that could really use some help from a friendly stranger.” I dropped my arms, along with any further pretense, and gave the ghost a warm smile.

“Oh.” They sighed, looking at me for a moment more before disappearing. Before I could even call after them, they had materialized in front of the two obvious switches (the spikes blocking the hallway submerged into the floor) and then once more in front of me. I tried not to startle at their sudden action.

“You should go see the Caretaker. I’m sure she can help you.” They said softly, staring into my face with a mollifying sincerity.

“I’d really appreciate a guide, if you don’t mind.” I smiled gingerly, realizing that putting up a front hadn’t gotten me anywhere. The frown on the ghost’s face flickered for the slightest of seconds; were they trying to smile back?

As they led me through a maze of tunnels and puzzles, brick-walled rooms and leaf-covered floors, I made a note to remain genuine and kind. Wherever I’d found myself, whatever this place was, the people here seemed to respond to good will.

It must be utterly removed from the wealth of hopelessness I’d left behind.


	3. A SOUL Found Wanting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks again for the comments and kudos! I apologize for my slight lapse in publishing. As many of you probably know, my country made a huge mistake this week and elected a walking worst-case-scenario to be president. It left me feeling pretty damn hopeless, and kind of broken. I worried that the part of me that believes in people being good, kind beings had died. But then, I played through a bit of Undertale again and it reminded me that not everyone is that way (sure, some are: but not everyone). There's good out there, if you go looking for it. You don't even have to look that hard.
> 
> This is the game (and fandom) that keeps on giving, and I love to be part of that. It helped get me out of this place of sadness, and I feel creative enough again to keep pushing on. We're all in this together. :)
> 
> If you like music to go along with your reading, today I recommend "Melancholy Hill" by Gorillaz (a personal favorite).  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjgm3xHr96Q
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

I was staring into eyes, so coldly trained on my own and incongruously juxtaposed against an otherwise kindly, soft face. The force of such a contradiction hit me like an actual blow, even from all the way across the long hall.

Napstablook had indeed led me to the caretaker of this place, babbling all the way a little lethargically, in the way that nervous people often do when they’re just trying to fill the air with noise. He’d been releasing a stream of consciousness so breathlessly that I’d barely even needed to interject at all to keep him going; but as soon as we passed through the last archway, a massive tree looming ahead of us, my ears filled instead with the prickling white noise of tension: there, sitting outside a tidy little house, was obviously the person I was coming to meet.

She very clearly noticed us, and there was no hesitation in the way she looked at me. She knew exactly what I was.

Holy shit, she was intimidating. As she drew herself to her full height, standing from a cute little bistro chair and setting down a worn book, I could see that she carried herself with a domineering grace and purpose: perfectly intentional and calculated.

And that stare, somehow not holding a single trace of malice and yet full of authority. She could have told me to climb my ass back out of the hole I’d fallen in, and I’d have done my damnedest to do just that, if only to escape her eyes.

Napstablook glided easily along beside me as some unseen tractor beam compelled me to close the gap and stand in front of her, in the shadow of her two-foot height over me. She was an imperious presence to say the least of her.

“You are a human,” She stated in the softest, sternest voice. There was no question about it this time, and I nodded my head with an immediacy that surprised myself; even if I hadn’t just vowed to be honest, I don’t think I could have denied her, “I will need to review your SOUL before I say any more.”

There was less control in the second statement; just enough of an apologetic tone to make me wonder.

But then, something tugged at a place deep inside my chest with an insistence that I couldn’t ignore. Deciding not to fight whatever the feeling was, I relaxed and glanced back over to Napstablook for a bit of support. A second longer, and a bright flash of light sprouted from the direct center of my chest and brought forth a tiny seed of intense color. Floating perhaps a foot before me was a tiny spot of –something. I couldn’t find the words to describe it.

It was hard to focus on, so luminous and vivid. It seemed to gleam with a power much greater than its size suggested, spinning delicately and radiating like a pulsar. The room, already a slight twilight purple, shone a beautiful violet from wall to wall. The caretaker’s shadow stretched long and tall behind her, giving her an even more impossibly decisive appearance. I stared wide-eyed into her face as she scanned—had she said it was my soul?—for something; she was concentrating very hard, whatever it was she was doing.

And then, maybe less than a few moments later, the force that had pulled my SOUL—I guess—out of me relented. It phased once more back into my body and I brought up a hand to the place it had disappeared, clutching at the fabric of my flannel with searching fingers. Something about this was so familiar.

“I’m sorry, my dear. It can be an emotional experience,” She said before me, my head dipped down to face the ground. A delicate waterspot appeared on the stone surface. Then another.

When had I started crying?

“Come, there is something I’d like you to see,” She pressed, putting a soft but massive paw on my shoulder. I diverted my gaze to Napstablook, still looking on with a placid curiosity, before meeting the caretaker’s eyes, “We’ll be fine. Thank you for bringing her to me, Napstablook.”

There was a bit of an edge to that last statement. It was riding the line between a request and a command. Napstablook once again dematerialized, with little more than a “see you.”

That same hand moved from my shoulder to my upper back, leading me once more out in the previous room and down another hallway. We emerged on a cliff face overlooking a vast and darkened city. It seemed to be crumbling under the weight of both abandonment and time itself.

“This is the remnants of our first Home,” The caretaker said beside me, paws now clasped together in front of her robes—they seemed to bear the same symbol that had been inlayed on the first puzzle door.

“I think I saw a plaque mentioning that. I didn’t realize it was a name,” I said kind of hoarsely, somehow losing my nerve to speak. She laughed a little, covering her mouth in another act of careful grace.

“Yes, well. We monsters may be strange, but our names are as mundane as anything from the surface.” She replied. I made a noise of question at the mention of the surface, “Yes, you are in the Underground: the realm of monsters, where we have lived in exile for centuries.”

“That wasn’t the answer I was expecting,” I said, looking back over the ancient city while I digested this information.

“Yes, I imagine most humans don’t even remember our kind. The war was so long ago that most monsters living these days were born in the Underground, into this life.” She said with a definite drop in her tone, “They wouldn’t even know the word for the sunlight you’ve spent your whole life in.”

Such a heartfelt, heartbreaking sentiment. Even though I’m sure her intentions were just to inform me of a history I’d never even considered, it was hard not to feel a hot wave of shame despite that.

“My people did this to you?” I asked heavily. It wasn’t as if I’d never before acknowledged the malevolent nature of humanity. I wasn’t so naïve as to believe my race wasn’t capable of harm. But I could honestly say it had never before crossed my mind that that animosity could have driven out an opposing species.

And then to just corral them underground, never to see light again?

“Awful” couldn’t even begin to describe such an act.

“It was very long ago,” She replied hesitantly at the look on my face, “My name is Toriel. I maintain the Ruins—this place—and look after all the monsters that still make it their home.” She changed subjects abruptly.

“There’s more?” I asked, all too happy to ask less difficult questions. I couldn’t help my curiosity, despite it all.

Learning more about monsters seemed like the very least I could do.

“Oh yes, most of us moved on from this place ages ago. New Home is the capital now, on the far side of the Underground.” She said. I couldn’t stop myself from releasing a snort of laughter at that.

“Sorry.” I said in a small voice, blushing with embarrassment. But Toriel laughed too and waved a paw at me.

“Don’t be. It is a rather funny name, I’m sure.” She said, “Now come: I’d like to show you around the Ruins a bit.”

With that, I walked the rough stone paths of the Underground, Toriel beside me and answering the litany of questions I’d been accruing in my mind the entire time I’d been down here. I met many monsters, who seemed incredibly eager to speak with me and interact with the new human; it appeared as though I wasn’t the first, but it may still have been some time. While everyone seemed to know _what_ I was, they didn’t really know what to do with me. It was kind of funny to be the odd one out.

Down here, _I_ was the outsider. For all intents and purposes, _I_ was the “monster.”

And yet, no one treated me as such. Were the situations reversed, I had no doubt that humanity wouldn’t react with such warmth and enthusiasm; well, maybe enthusiasm in the sense that humans would _enthusiastically_ drive monsters back to where they’d come from.

This was all obvious, even just by the end of that first day—at least, I’d assumed it was the first day: time was a little weird in the Underground. That said, by the end of the week I already felt like I’d been accepted and even welcomed. It was crazy to believe that all it had taken to find a sense of belonging was to fall into a realm of monsters.

Actually, scratch that. That wasn’t all it had taken.

Something was still off.

The longer I stayed, the more reconciled I felt; the cloud didn’t hang as far over my mind now. And if I tried, I could even kind of get a feeling of what my life had been like before I’d fallen.

If you’d asked me what my life had been like on the surface back in that first cavern, the one full of golden flowers, I don’t think I could have told you a damned thing. But now I had a bit of an idea. An inkling.

An impression.

And that impression told me that there was still something else. I was still searching.

Toriel had noticed this restlessness in me right away, probably starting up around my fourth day in the Underground. I’d come back from helping the spiders put up bake sale signs, closing the front door with a soft click and kicking off my shoes.

“I’m home.” I called into the quaint house without so much as an echo.

Christ—“home,” I’d said. What was it about monsters that made me feel so attached to them already?

Toriel tried not to make it obvious that she’d come up from the basement, but it was hard not to notice her white furry head peeking up through the bannister at me.

“Something wrong with the door?” I asked her, the look in her deep eyes creating disquiet in my gut. She’d shown me the door to the Underground on my first night in the house, if just to sate my curiosity and make clear that I was not to go through.

Not yet, she seemed to imply.

“Let’s discuss it over dinner,” Toriel deflected so unobtrusively that I forgot my worry and followed her into the living room. I took my place at the table, plates of some kind of casserole already laid out for the both of us.

Despite her words, most of the meal was shared in companionable silence. Until, that is, I remembered myself and probed her for a response again.

“My dear, I know you’ve only just started to settle here. In fact, though you’ve only been here a short while, I can already sense the unrest building in you,” Toriel said after wiping her mouth with her handkerchief. I made a noise to argue, but she continued, “I’ve known it since I met you, even on that first day you were ready to move on, ready to push forward.”

I stayed quiet, fork hovering motionlessly over my plate, and searched her face. Why did it feel so true, like I’d only been able to realize it once she’d said it?

“You’re looking for something,” She added with the kind of smile reserved for a truth you wished weren’t true, “And I couldn’t stop you from going to find it if I tried.”

“How do you know?”

“I could see it in your SOUL. I don’t know you well enough to know what exactly you’re seeking, but it’s definitely calling out for something,” She explained, “And you won’t be whole until you find it.”

“You know, now that you say it, I think I’ve known that too,” I said carefully, gesturing toward my head, “It’s just cloudy up there.”

Toriel stood to take my now-empty plate back into the kitchen. I followed along behind her like a child, watching as she silently cleaned up.

“Am I leaving?” I asked her, staring decidedly at the checkered tile floor, “Is that why you were checking the door?” Toriel sighed, a small and soft sound, before turning.

“Yes, I believe you must,” She said kindly, and added, “I believe it’s what you came here for.”

Who was I to argue with the intuitions of a centuries-old monster? Toriel knew so much more than I could ever even hope to comprehend; she knew this place like no other. If she had looked into my SOUL and found it wanting, I believed her.

Something out there, in the rest of the Underground, was calling to me.

Maybe finding it would fix this split inside me.

So I left. That night.

Toriel packed a bag for me, full of homemade foods, all infused with healing magics. She lamented not being able to loan me any clothing, as everything she seemed to have were made to fit children, but I soothed her worries by promising to buy myself something warm—she said the area beyond the door was much colder than the Ruins. And, although I wouldn’t notice until well after I’d left, she also hid away a huge supply of gold in my bag.

As I walked rather solemnly down the staircase, hands gripping the straps of the backpack around my shoulders with white-knuckled anxiety, Toriel took the time to remind me of some things.

“Just be friendly and kind, as you have been all week. Monsters may try to attack you, as you are a human, but they don’t really mean to harm you,” She was babbling slightly, “Just be yourself. You’ll be fine.” Panic was setting in as the door, once again bearing that strange symbol, drew ever nearer.

I grabbed Toriel’s paw in my small hand, which she gave an encouraging squeeze without the slightest hesitation.

“You _will_ find what you need,” She said with finality, facing me head-on in front of the door, “Stay determined. You will persevere.”

I nodded in one fast, jerky motion.

Ok. Time to go.

Time to leave.

Time to go find whatever it was I was here for.

Fuck, why was I going to miss Toriel so badly?

Feeling tears welling in the corners of my eyes, I wrapped my arms around Toriel’s waist—to hell with propriety—and hugged her tightly. She returned the embrace in the most motherly of ways, which truly brought the tears out of me.

“I feel like I’m never going to see you again,” I choked, not even sure where this well of sadness had come from. Why did I feel that way?

“Fear not, my dear. The Underground is a small place,” She soothed me, “And friends always find their way home in the end.”

That was it. That was what I’d needed to hear before I left: to hear that we were indeed friends. I wasn’t imagining the bond between us.

Pulling away and wiping at my cheeks with the composure of a person no longer embarrassed to hide her feelings, I smiled widely up at Toriel and turned to push open the door. A goodbye would be too hard.

I stepped into that same calm lilac glow of the Ruins behind, staring down another seemingly endless hallway. Looking back, Toriel waved in the most careless way I’d yet seen from her, as though she had finally dropped a pretense she’d been holding on to for ages.

“My friend should be waiting for you just on the other side,” She said one last time as the door started to gently shut, “Good luck, my child.”

“Until I see you again,” I let myself say, as the image of her finally disappeared.

At the end of the tunnel, darkened and black save for the glowing symbol on the final door, I took a shaky breath. Steeled myself. All that jazz.

“Onwards, then.”

The door was stubborn to open, and I realized that I was pushing it against a mound of snow. Oh God, it was _freezing_! And I was so, _so_ weak.

“Come on, you bastard.” I grunted, shoving my shoulder against the door with every ounce of might in my tiny frame. I needn’t have bothered though, as it practically flew off its hinges once I’d cleared whatever threshold was keeping it back.

Tumbling forward, I threw my arms out before me and landed in a soft carpet of fresh snow. The door slammed shut behind me, seemingly rattling the entire rockface it was built into.

“Hello world.” I muttered, letting sarcastic words heal the sting of embarrassment I felt for myself. But I was cut off from any other clever one-liners as the sound of tentative footsteps, crunch-crunch-crunching in the snow, met my ears.

I looked up, having to throw back the hood of my jacket, which had flopped down over my eyes as _I_ had flopped down onto the ground.

Above me was a short, stocky monster; they were largely cast in shadow, as my eyes had yet to adjust to the brilliant brightness of the snowy forest, but I could tell they were staring down at me intensely. Picking myself off of the ground, I stood before the monster and tried to smile.

However, I think my first face might have been one of utter surprise. In the Ruins, I’d adjusted to the sight of monsters fairly fast. The Loox had probably been the strangest. Maybe the Vegetoid. But that was to say nothing about the monster before me now: he was very clearly a skeleton.

How –mundane?

I smiled at him, because he seemed to be nervous under my gaze. Remember to be the friendliest human you can be, I told myself.

“Hi,” I started simply, electing to keep my hands at my side, instead of waving. No sudden movements. Probably a good idea, because at that word alone he was practically sweating. I noticed fists clench in the pockets of his royal blue hoodie, “Sorry to startle you, but I think we have a mutual friend. She might have mentioned I was coming through?”

Still the skeleton seemed unable to respond, so I tried to relax my posture as much as possible. Remember honesty: people respond to openness.

“I’m trying to find something down here in the Underground and she mentioned you might be able to help me. You’re Sans, right?” I laid it all out now, shifting a little from foot to foot. The pinpricks of light in his eyesockets were darting all over my face as a silence hung for a few moments between us.

“What’s your name?” He blurted, diverting his gaze for an imperceptible second. Did he look irritated at his own abruptness? Or was it the question? Regardless, I answered with a smile and an innocent wave of my hand.

“I’m Teagan. Nice to meet you, Sans.”


	4. Y O U D I D G O O D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! As always, thanks for the comments and kudos; getting feedback is one of my favorite things about writing, because I like to get to know the people who read my stuff. 
> 
> On that note, I'd like to take a quick moment to address something: I will occasionally be candid. That's not to say that I let my personal feelings alter the story if those feelings aren't applicable to the narrative, but rather that I will at times mention what goes on in my life in the notes section or in comments. Last chapter, I posted about politics in my notes as an explanation for a lapse in what I (had) intended to be pretty regular updates, but also as a chance to share a little about myself with you guys. I'd like to get to know you all, so it's only fair that I'm honest about myself (and I'm not one to be quiet anyway). I do respect everyone's ideas and beliefs, but I refuse to be silent about how I feel because it might annoy some people.
> 
> The message was supposed to be one of looking forward, of hope, and that goodness can be found all throughout this community. I fully enjoy giving back into that community with my writing, but if you aren't comfortable with me at times expressing my personal opinions, remember that you can always go find someone else to provide you with more free entertainment.
> 
> Or just skip the notes. You know, your choice.
> 
> Anyway! I was having a hard time thinking of a good song for this chapter, but I've recently been getting into Undertale remixes. That said, "Small Shock" by Sim Gretina is not only a good choice for this chapter, but just in general. Definitely one of my favorites that I've listened to!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxJk-eRPveI&list=LLHcUe3cRZ2GWJh1Z4lvVKIQ&index=1
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

There was something about Sans.

I couldn’t really place the feeling, but the way he hovered beside me, choosing to walk next to me instead of leading me through the forest, felt kind of strange. Different.

Most monsters in the Ruins, while friendly and conversational, still kept me at a bit of a distance; it was as though they were constantly wondering what I’d do, at least in the back of their minds. I couldn’t exactly blame them, but it hurt a little that even Napstablook, whom I’d bonded with, had held me at arms-length (so to speak).

But Sans was very present. Extremely nervous and fidgety, yeah, but much more attendant than anyone else had been, save for Toriel.

Was it trust?

After a long stretch of silence and an even longer stretch of snowy terrain, we came to a narrow wooden bridge which seemed to have some kind of gate built around it. If the intention was to stop people from getting through, it was a pretty poor obstacle. Sans strode deliberately through the opening and turned to face me.

“you can just walk right through.” He responded to my questioning look, giving me a lazy wave of his skeletal hand and a smirk.

Glancing once more over the odd structure, I proceeded forward, kind of expecting something to happen.

Nothing did.

Well that was a bit underwhelming.

“hoping for something more exciting?” Sans asked, reading my mind, as I came to stand beside him. I cocked an eyebrow at him, “you wouldn’t be the first.” He added nonchalantly.

Yeah, sure.

I couldn’t press him further though, as another monster had entered the clearing from farther down the road and made some noise between an intense gasp and a scream. Instinctively shrinking into myself a bit, I turned toward the source of the noise to find another skeleton.

Despite the superficial aesthetic similarities, I wouldn’t say this newcomer had any relation to Sans. Where Sans was short and stocky, the other monster was tall and lanky. And while Sans had deep-set eyesockets much more likened to a typical skeleton, the other had beady but expressive eyes above a wide, toothy mouth. He was gaping at me with such obvious excitement and disbelief that it was a bit unsettling.

A tick of silence before—

“hey bro.”

The tension in the air broke with the resound of a snapping rubber band. I faltered, looking back and forth between the two—brothers? Well, best to appear harmless, then; I could probably imagine that he was also on my side.

“Hi.” I mirrored myself from before when greeting Sans, this time electing to give a half-wave, half-salute, “Nice to meet another friendly face.”

I assumed, anyway.

“HUMAN!” The skeleton shrieked in a voice full of elation, but also a general margin of confusion, “DO NOT LET MY SMILE FOOL YOU, FOR I, _THE GREAT PAPYRUS_ , INTEND TO CAPTURE YOU.”

Ok, so maybe I was wrong.

“Uh—” I floundered, but was once again cut off by—was it Papyrus?

“SNOWDIN IS UNDER THE PROTECTION OF ME AND MY BROTHER. PROCEED FORWARD IF YOU DARE, BUT BE PREPARED TO HAVE YOUR WITS CHALLENGED AND YOUR METTLE TESTED BY OUR MANY PUZZLES.” Papyrus pointed a gloved hand at me while striking a more confident pose; he seemed to be relaxing into a more rehearsed mindset. I figured I could play along.

“Hey, bring it on, Papyrus.” I said, crossing my arms and grinning widely. Sans watched on while Papyrus cackled in a way that not only wasn’t menacing, but was actually kind of precious.

“YOU ARE VERY BRAVE, BUT WE SHALL SEE HOW DARING YOU ARE AFTER YOU MEET YOUR FIRST TRIAL.” And with that, and another crow of laughter, Papyrus sped off further into the forest. There only seemed to be the one path forward, so there wouldn’t be any avoiding him.

I wasn’t really worried, though.

“he’s harmless,” Sans again affirmed my thoughts, facing the direction his brother had left but looking at me sidelong, “and you’ve got me looking out for you, so don’t worry.”

“I figured as much,” I replied vaguely, shrugging. I didn’t want to give away which statement I was agreeing with, “So long as you don’t turn on me. You _are_ the brother of a very determined human catcher.”

Sans grinned wider at the obvious tease with a simple “guilty.”

“Anyway, I don’t mind playing along,” I said, starting to follow Papyrus down the road, “Could be fun.”

“i thought you might say that.” Sans said distantly once he thought I was far enough ahead of him.

I was left to my own devices now, as Sans had an appearance to keep up too for Papyrus and couldn’t guide me. I passed a shoddily constructed sentry station a ways down, which seemed to be assembled in the same loving, imaginative way a child builds a rocket ship out of cardboard boxes. I knew who had built it even before I read a sign beside it, written in a huge caps-locked font; my mind read the words in a reverberating, screamy voice.

I smiled to myself as I walked on.

I spotted another sentry station down the road, with what appeared to be a dog, standing on two legs, leaning on the counter. His eyes, lowered to slits, were darting watchfully around the forest path. I stopped in place as his ears pricked up at the sound of crunching snow. Neither Papyrus (nor Sans, for that matter—that traitor) had mentioned any other sentries on the road. I couldn’t be sure this guy was in on the game, and I suddenly felt a little vulnerable.

“Did something move?” The dog said in a jumpy voice, “Show yourself!”

Did dog monsters have poor vision? Or maybe it was that he couldn’t see me from his angle? At any rate, I figured I could probably sneak past him instead of engaging.

Seemed like the better option, anyway.

The forest itself didn’t seem impassable, just dense; so I sidled slowly over toward the tree line, stopping any time the dog seemed to zero in on my movement. Eventually I made it into cover and continued to amble along behind the sentry station, leaving the nervous mumblings about needing to “smoke a dog treat” behind me.

Skirting around a frozen pond, I damn near ran into Sans as he popped out from the eastern fork in the path.

“Hey you.” I said, noticing a slight look of panic on his face, which he quickly masked.

Wait, how did he get in front of me? I hadn’t noticed any other roads. Eh, whatever. He lived here, he probably knew some shortcuts.

“forgot about doggo,” Sans said, sounding kind of strained, “usually I don’t have to worry about him. how did you get by?”

“I just walked through the forest, behind the station. Seemed like the smartest idea.” I said, shrugging again. It was like he hadn’t even considered that option.

“yeah, smart.” He said, smiling in a more relaxed way now.

“Go on then, Mr. Double Agent,” I said, brushing past him with a wink, “I’ve got some puzzles to solve.”

Papyrus was in the next clearing, as was his brother –how did he do that? They were waiting for me across a square patch of packed snow, standing in contrast against the fluffy, untouched snow of the rest of the forest. At the sight of me glancing curiously around, Papyrus lit up.

“HUMAN!” He once again called to me, “BEFORE YOU LIES YOUR FIRST TRIAL. THERE IS ONLY ONE PATH THROUGH THIS MAZE, AND ANY WRONG STEP WILL SHOCK YOU. CHOOSE CAREFULLY!” And then he laughed in that way of his.

Although amused by Papyrus’s antics, I couldn’t help but think this seemed kind of harsh. I was about to ask what my hint was, before noticing a very clear line of extra-packed snow leading from my spot out through the other side.

Really?

“PICK UP THAT ORB AND CARRY IT WITH YOU, OTHERWISE YOU WON’T FEEL THE SHOCKS.” Papyrus explained further. Obeying dutifully, I slipped the orb (resting unassumingly on the ground) into my coat pocket.

There wouldn’t be any fun in making it look too easy, so I tried to seem as though I were deliberating over my every step. Papyrus watched with an unblinking excitement, gloves clenched in front of him and bent in a stance of anticipation.

I was so enjoying his look of excessive eagerness that I’d look up and giggle after every step. However, I became too overconfident about three-quarters of the way through the maze and stepped forward when I should have turned.

An acute sting burned from the orb in my pocket, leaving an incredible, searing pain on my side. I yelled out in surprise more than anything, adrenaline flooding my system right away and dulling the aura of pain. My knees buckled together for a moment before I pushed forward through the final straightaway and out of the maze.

A surprisingly gentle hand fell on my back as I sat heavily down on the snow. I looked up into the sweet, apprehensive face of Papyrus, who appeared ready to pick me up and carry me away if I said I couldn’t stand. There was something about that face that I couldn’t bear to worry, so I summoned everything within me to stand back up and smile.

“I knew I should just have walked around it,” I laughed in spite of the gnawing burn on my stomach that screamed at every move, “I’m not as good at puzzles as I thought.”

“NONSENSE! YOU HAVE PROVEN TO BE A WORTHY ADVERSARY SO FAR.” Papyrus grappled with what to say. I decided not to point out that this was the first challenge he’d thrown at me and I hadn’t exactly come out unscathed.

“you sure you’re ok, kid?” Sans asked from my side. I hadn’t noticed him there yet, and the tight expression in his grin made me crumple just a little. He kept glancing at his brother.

“Perfectly fine to keep going.” I said pointedly, realizing that neither of us wanted Papyrus blaming himself for me getting hurt. I could suck it up for a bit longer.

But how much longer?

The brothers ran off ahead once I’d reassured them enough that I was alright, Sans looking over his shoulder to give me an encouraging, and thankful, nod.

Rushing through the next room, and through the growing pain, I took the slightest of moments to appreciate my innocent surroundings. Maybe the lazily falling snow helped to give the forest that feeling of childlike virtue and purity, but the sense of quiet and earnest sincerity was much more pervasive.

An ice cream—Nice Cream, rather—vendor in a freezing place like this? So quaint.

Games and puzzles filling every tangible clearing? Heartachingly whimsical.

I wished I could have stopped longer to observe everything, committing this warm feeling (despite the terrible cold) to memory. But that same biting cold seemed to be making the needling pain of my burn all that much worse, as cutting gusts blew through the trees and under my flannel to scratch at my red, irritated skin. The adrenaline was even wearing off, falsely lulled by the charming comfort surrounding me, and making it much harder to ignore the pain.

I finally found Sans and Papyrus again, standing once more at the opposite side of an expanse of packed snow. The wind cut me even deeper as I emerged; we stood on a land bridge, towering over the valley below. My wound howled back at the wind and I had to bite my lip to hold back a wail of my own.

“YES, I SEE THAT YOU TOO ARE STRICKEN WITH FEAR AT THE PUZZLE BEFORE YOU.” Papyrus had picked back up on his usual cadence, but I could tell Sans had seen through me, “MY BROTHER ALWAYS CRAFTS THE MOST UNUSUAL OF CHALLENGES.”

I wandered up to the center of the area, where a piece of paper was laying almost apologetically on the ground. I sat down in the snow again, but tried to make it look like I was enthralled with what looked like a word search. It actually looked like someone had already tried to solve it already, but didn’t understand how word searches worked as a few individual letters were singled out with circles.

Y O U D I D G O O D

Oh, it was a message: “you did good.”

Fuck, that was all the prompting I needed.

With a huge sigh of what sounded like confusion—but was actually relief—I fell onto my side not currently ignited by pain and made the most convincing face of failure possible.

“Oh I am _defeated_!” I exclaimed passionately, throwing the back of my hand to my forehead, “I surely cannot get past this challenge. I surrender to you, Papyrus, and I beg for mercy.”

Yeah, probably laying it on a bit thick.

But a moment later, and I was swept up into the bony arms of the taller skeleton, who looked at me with gleaming pride.

“FEAR NOT, HUMAN!” Papyrus’s voice was amplified ten-fold by his proximity, “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ACCEPT YOUR SURRENDER. WE WILL ESCORT YOU TO SNOWDIN AND HEAL YOUR WOUNDS, FOR WE ARE COMPASSIONATE CAPTORS!”

I couldn’t help but smile, despite it all.

“Please call me Teagan,” I blushed at the sudden, focused attention, “Or Teag. Whatever—whichever.” I corrected, feeling flustered and very, very much still in pain.

“yeah, paps. it is a pretty brew- _tea_ -ful name.” Sans said with the most ridiculous wink.

Usually I couldn’t stand puns (especially ones about my name), but there was something I liked about the way Sans delivered it. It felt kind of familiar.

My smile morphed horribly into a snort of laughter, which I covered with the sleeve of my jacket in embarrassment. And the look on Sans’s face, a huge and shamelessly impish grin, only served to worsen my composure even more.

Papyrus sprinted off with me still in his hold while I covered my entire face with my hands; he was ranting fearfully about how my red face must mean that I was running a fever.

Due to both of these circumstances, I missed the sentiments that flashed across Sans’s face: relief, then adoration, then hope.


	5. Completely by Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UGH, I am sooooo sorry for the absence. I have excuses, but it's not worth recounting them. Anyway! Here's a new chapter, albeit a shorter one than usual. I had intended for it to be light and fluffy, but some feels snuck in and changed the focus a bit. Since this chapter is about half of what I had planned to happen next in the story, look for another chapter soon (maybe tonight).
> 
> I wanted to tone to be playful for the dialogue, so I was thinking "Run and Go" by Twenty One Pilots would be a good fit for background music (in terms of sound, not words).  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1qFTEXPiqQ
> 
> As always, thanks for the kudos and comments! Feedback is great. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. :)

It seemed Papyrus was still serious about capturing me, if not also obviously conflicted about it. He had gingerly deposited me on a much-too-small dog bed before sprinting out of my –interesting-- prison without another word. For a few minutes, I was left alone in his “Coolshed” to take in my surroundings.

For all of his talk, I had to imagine Papyrus wasn’t sure what he’d do with a human if he ever caught one. Actually, as I pushed aside a bowl of kibble and a squeaky toy, I began to wonder if he even really knew what humans were.

What did monsters think of us?

And then, as though my curiosity had summoned him to me, Sans appeared on the other side of my prison bars—or was “cage” a more fitting description, given the provided diversions?—with little more than a fizz and a slight smell of tomato paste.

“You know, my parents adopted a dog named Teagan before they had me,” I stated in monotone, “I have to wonder if you two somehow knew about that.”

“aw, feeling a little melan- _collie_ in there?” Sans had the nerve to quip back at my feigned irritation.

“Your puns at my expense wound me.” I said dramatically, flicking a piece of kibble at him through the bars. He ducked to avoid the projectile and, instead of straightening, flopped onto the ground. I scooted my dog bed over to the bars to sit cross-legged in front of him, “Did you bring the food?”

“yep, skeleton of my word.” Sans replied, pulling a slice of Toriel’s homemade bread from his hoodie pocket, mercifully wrapped in a napkin. I took it from his hand, hovering teasingly just beyond my reach on the other side.

“Just because my head can’t fit doesn’t mean my arms can’t,” I snorted, grabbing the bread from him easily and hooking my elbows through the bars. Supporting my upper body against the cage relieved some of the pressure on my side as I ate, and the healing qualities of the monster food started to work immediately enough that I could raise my gaze and mutter a simple “asshole” at Sans. He snickered and silently gave me another piece once I’d finished the first.

“you getting hurt wasn’t supposed to happen, you know.” Sans finally said, sounding somehow tenser than the previous stretch of silence. The pinpricks of light in his eyesockets were flying around the room, refusing to settle on me.

“My stupidity isn’t your fault, dude.” I replied with a shrug. To my credit, I did mean it truthfully, despite my demeanor seeming blasé, “I knew I should have just gone around it. I don’t think Papyrus would have expected that.” I tried to lighten the mood, and might have seen a more genuine smile tug at Sans’s plastered-on grin.

“he’d never have seen that coming. might have been a _shock_ to his system.” Sans was laughing at me again almost before he could even finish, as I once again gaped at his gall and reiterated that he was being an ass.

“Toriel never mentioned my guardian was such a shit!” I tried to hide the smile creeping up on me as Sans continued to laugh; it had a candor and sincerity to it that was pulling at something strange in me. And just as I seemed to notice the sensation, Sans twitched a hand toward his own chest, ceasing his laughter but looking at me with the same genuine smile. He paused a quick second to really look at me before speaking.

“asshole or not, I did say I’d help you.” Sans poised himself, hunching his elbows on his knees to lean forward.

“Don’t do me any favors.” I tried to keep up the banter we had going, but he just winked. His nonchalance was more guarded now, but not in an unfriendly way per say. It was more a measure of caution, like he was holding something back. Or not.

He was hard to read.

It was kind of infuriating.

“you’re safe. really. paps isn’t going to turn you in, but you’ve still gotta wait for him to realize it before i can let you out,” Sans said in response to my face screwing up in doubt, “you just gotta learn some patience, tea.”

I didn’t realize he meant me at first, but then remembered his awful punning about my name back in Snowdin forest. In this context, acting as a nickname instead of a bad joke, I found that I didn’t mind it so much.

“Just don’t make me wait for _oolong_ of a time.” I sighed, pulling back from the bars to adjust into a more comfortable position on the dog bed—and also so I’d miss the flicker of humor pass over Sans’s face. What I would give for more comfortable seating; now _that_ would help keep me patient.

Hmm. There’s a thought.

I hadn’t really been too curious about Sans simply popping into existence in the shed, since—at this point—I just assumed there was a lot I needed to learn about monsters and magic. Teleportation seemed as likely a thing to be possible as pulling a SOUL out from my chest.

It was all crazy.

But now I was wondering what was to stop Sans from teleporting me in something more comfortable to sit on while I waited? Apparently it wouldn’t be hard at all, because as soon as I’d asked him, Sans had disappeared into thin air and had once more reappeared beside me, chair in skeletal hand, right away.

“only the best from your merciful captors.” Sans said to my objecting look of a wooden dining chair.

Smartass. If I’d wanted to sit on an unforgiving surface like that for the next unforeseeable length of time, I’d just have sat on the hardwood floor of the shed. But before I could protest, Sans was saying how I’d be on my own for a while as he had to monitor his brother, who wasn’t allowed to cook unsupervised—seriously, how sheltered was Papyrus?

As if he was gonna pull that shit and just leave me here.

Before I could even consider the repercussions, I was reaching out to grab Sans’s fluffy hood just as he blipped out of the shed.

Well, that was probably not smart.

For the longest second of my life, I was suspended in the most cloying, viscous darkness of my life. But it wasn’t just dark; it was something more, something worse than darkness. Because at least you know that darkness is nothingness; there’s nothing creeping in shadows. It’s just shadows.

But this.

This was a void. It was a black hole.

It was as though I could feel light and feeling being sucked away. Matter was breaking down and sinking into murky, aphotic depths that I couldn’t see but could feel with every inch of my skin.

And just as I thought that I might submerge too, to slowly suffocate as the air was forcefully extracted from my lungs, I phased through the world and coalesced somewhere else.

I found myself, blinking and breathing laboriously, in a sparsely but sweetly decorated living room. Everything smelled like cedar and distantly I could hear the snapping and bubbling of something boiling. From what was probably the kitchen, I caught the distinct smell of tomato paste and rosemary.

The world seemed to swim in blissful slow motion, as I took everything in, until time seemed to catch up to me and slap me in the face. I fell down, hand loosening the grip on Sans’s hood, my sole lifeline; I slumped into a comforting, worn couch forgivingly just behind me as my eyes spun in their sockets.

It felt like a year before Sans turned to face me, some mixture of pure anger, worry, failed composure, and perhaps the slightest bit of satisfaction—probably at my idiocy. In my state I couldn’t notice just how far his face had fallen, though.

“Look what happened completely by accident.” I tried, but it was a feeble attempt—attempt at what? Was it humor? Was I trying to pacify him? Whatever the reason, I felt like I needed to tell him I was ok; suddenly my chest had tightened more from the look flashing across his face than it had from that creeping, dark void I felt like could have killed me, if not for him.

I was expecting a thorough lecture, but an intense dizziness overtook me as I tried to crawl further into the couch. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing them to stop spinning, and grabbed Sans’s hand to ground me. Despite his fury, I felt his fingers, rigid and smooth and—surprisingly—warm, grip my own reassuringly.

If the world had dragged before, it was whizzing by now, as though my brain had forgotten how it’s supposed to process time and was desperately trying to recalibrate. Like a stuttering computer, I needed a hard reboot.

That reset came in the form of Papyrus, who burst through the front door with all the force of gale-force winds.

“BROTHER! I HAVE RETURNED WITH EXTRA SPICES FOR TONIGHT’S SAUCE, SO WE CAN NOW—” Papyrus’s voice was less like a howl of wind than it was the shriek of a banshee. My eyes snapped open now, halting their spinning with a massive force that I’m sure I would have felt if not for Sans’s grip on me.

I figured him noticing me on the couch was what had caused him to falter, and I wasn’t wrong. Papyrus was staring at me, jaw agape so comically that it almost got me to laugh, his arms full of paper bags full-to-bursting with jars of various spices and seasonings.

“Uh oh, my daring escape seems to have been thwarted once more by the Great Papyrus,” I said. My voice was meeker than I’d have hoped for, but I tried to play it off as mild dread, “Take me back to the shed, then.”

“i’ve got her, you get started on dinner, bro.” Sans volunteered right away, turning to face me fully, his pupils sparking severely.

“BUT BROTHER, YOU SAID YOU WOULD HELP WITH DINNER TONIGHT.” Papyrus piped up, and I wasn’t sure if he was calling a bluff or trying to come to my aid.

“i won’t be long.” Sans said simply, but his voice crackling a bit. I shrunk a little into myself, both from guilt and –dare I say it—fear.

“O-OK THEN.” Papyrus hazarded a last glance at me, and hurried off for the kitchen after I gave him the best smile I could muster. Sans waited for his brother to disappear completely before actually looking into my face.

“can you walk?” he asked quietly, his grimace fading ever so slightly. I nodded quickly and pulled myself up from the couch, hand absentmindedly clutching the collar of my flannel. As Sans pulled me by the hand out of the house and toward the adjacent shed, I pulled the collar over my face to hide my embarrassment.

Had I just fucked everything up?

Had I just destroyed that trust I felt Sans had in me, for whatever reason?

I was deposited on the dining chair, still hiding, as Sans closed and relocked the gate behind him. I could feel him linger on the other side of the room, even though I wouldn’t look at him.

“papyrus was so excited to have a guest tonight that he was making dinner special for you, but now I don’t know if he’ll still have you.” Sans’s voice was somewhere between annoyance and tenderness. Maybe it was plain disappointment.

“Him, or you?” I asked, dropping my collar but keeping my head low, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

I don’t know if Sans heard me, because when I did finally look up, he’d already left.


	6. 80 Percent Sure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I said two chapters in a day and I (almost) meant it! It's still today until I go to sleep. Since I just posted a chapter, not really any news. I'm gonna try to have another on Thursday, since I have to write a term paper tomorrow and that'll take my whole day. But, as always, thank you for the comments and kudos! I got a higher-than-usual first response to that chapter, so it seems you guys liked it pretty well.
> 
> For music, I recommend "Whistle for the Choir" by the Fratellis. This chapter is dialogue-heavy, but I try to keep to tone light; I think this song matches that fairly well.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFFuSRn_GSk
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :D

I managed to behave myself for about half an hour—I’m estimating, here—before my mind started to wander, as it is often wont to do. Give me some credit that I waited at all though, despite my itching side and the itch from somewhere deep in my chest that seemed to say “good job on ruining what could have been a good thing, idiot.”

Eventually the clawing, nagging sense of bitterness at my own foolish actions made my feet move to pacing: an old habit. When I got anxious or unsure, some part of me would start moving of its accord. Usually this mindless motion would be enough to quiet my brain into a trance of specific focus, but today it just wasn’t working. I was pacing at the same speed as my thoughts, from one end of the tiny cage to the other.

Had I overestimated my position as a pseudo prisoner here? (Turn to face the other wall)

Had I lost whatever trust Sans had in me? Had I wasted whatever good words Toriel had put in for me? (Wall touch, boots skidding in a small circle on the floor)

Was that place—wherever it was—not meant for humans? Would it end up hurting me? (Brief falter in pacing, but picked back up after a panic-induced second)

And what the _fuck_ was wrong with my chest? (Lean against the wall, slumping down to the floor)

And of course, as soon as that thought sprang into my mind, I had an answer; I couldn’t even start to answer any of my other worries, but I had some insight as to why my chest was hurting: my SOUL. Obviously.

“Heh, _obviously_.” I muttered to myself, reiterating that I realized that thought was bizarre. Everything was different down here in the Underground. Up on the surface, I couldn’t be sure I’d had a soul; that wasn’t me being philosophical, but rather a mark of my humanity.

How crazy, to be amongst an entire group of people that were intimately aware of and in-tune with their souls, when I came from a place that did everything it could to convince you that, if you had one, a soul was a personal problem. If you were unfortunate enough to have one, a soul was a secret you should keep with yourself, lest it be manipulated and used by another.

Ok, that’s enough wallowing.

I looked down at my chest, rising and falling from the effort of throwing myself around my cage. I shrugged off my jacket and pulled back my flannel, a hand resting lightly against my shirt. I rubbed at the spot, dead-center of my chest, where I’d once seen Toriel pull forth that violet-purple burst of color. Mimicking her motions in as scientific a way as I could, I succeeded only in looking like even more of an ass.

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t just a motion. Magic or not, you’d think humans would have eventually been able to pull out a SOUL—accident or not—if it were that simple.

Turning away from my frustrated mind, I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on that day in the Ruins with Toriel, when I’d first fallen into the Underground. God, it felt like a year ago now…

I missed Toriel so badly, and it had barely been a day.

Fuck, now is not the time to cry. Now is the time to concentrate!

I opened my eyes again, once again shifting my thoughts: this time away from Toriel pulling out my SOUL and instead on to what it had _felt like_ when she’d done it. Ok Teagan, now think.

It had been a tingling sensation at first, like something was brushing against my skin. Like a feather. And then there had been the pull, from a space inside my chest so deep that it shouldn’t even exist. And then—and then? And then I had relaxed; I gave myself over to it. But it wasn’t like giving up, exactly. It was more like—letting go.

My fingers, hovering a few inches from my chest, twitched inward toward my palm as I took in a sharp breath. The tight, sad feeling in my SOUL gave a shudder as for, the briefest of seconds, I felt that tug. Like someone had a string around my SOUL and was encouraging it forward into the world. It was a harsher jerk than when Toriel had done it, as though there was some level of finesse involved, but there was no mistaking that sensation.

And at the same moment, something flashed through my mind, fast and abrupt and transitory. Not quite a memory, not complete enough—but a remnant of one.

A small room—a bed under a darkened window—a full moon lights up deep eyes in a diffused glow—a tug from my chest—sheets bathed in a violet-purple glow—and then nothing.

Nothing but loneliness.

Damn it, I’m crying again. What the hell just happened? That feeling, whatever it was, was so intense. I couldn’t remember much in terms of an image, but the feeling in my SOUL made up for that ten-fold. In that moment I had just gotten a glimpse of, I could have told you what feeling itself was. I could have filled a book, cover to cover, with words to describe the totality of consciousness that had suddenly rushed through me.

And then it had gone.

I smelled the tomato sauce and rosemary before I heard Sans, who had apparently just teleported back into the shed.

“what happened?” He asked me, kneeling in front of me. I looked up from my chest and my feet, pushing my knees hard against my torso, slipped forward to extend my legs fully. It was as though I couldn’t find the energy (or the will) to keep upright.

“tea, what _happened_?” Sans pressed me again, hand on my shoulder, when I also couldn’t seem to find the power to speak. What was the point, with all this emptiness I now realized I carried around in me?

But then, at the look of panic on Sans’s face, I found it in me to answer.

“I was trying to pull out my SOUL.” I said, finally dropping my hand from my chest to my side. Sans went from panic to complete confusion in the blink of an eye.

“you what?”

“My SOUL,” I reiterated, misunderstanding Sans before he waved his other hand at me, “Oh, right. Well, I was trying to pull it out, because it was hurting a bit—”

“how badly?” He cut me off, despite something on his face implying he kind of knew. I shrugged lazily, still feeling out of the moment.

“Not bad, just kind of tight. Kind of upset, you know,” I explained lamely, but Sans still nodded regardless, “Anyway, I thought about how Toriel had pulled out my SOUL and wondered if I could do it too, so I could—check on it, I guess?”

This all sounded kind of dumb when I said it out loud. What had I really expected to happen? Well, not what ended up happening, honestly.

“I think I did manage to touch it, somehow. I’m, like, 80 percent sure it was my SOUL,” I continued, looking off into the distance as I remembered how it had felt, “And then I got this flash of something in my mind; it wasn’t really a memory—I don’t think, anyway—but more like a fragment…” I faded out, trying to find the word to put to it.

“an impression.” Sans said somberly, and I nodded encouragingly.

“Yes, exactly!” I was getting back a bit of my spunk at the same time that Sans seemed to be withdrawing. He wouldn’t meet my eyes now, but his body language was all guilt, “I’m sorry for scaring you. I shouldn’t have gone poking around in my SOUL by myself.” I tried to placate him, figuring he was upset for working me up before, after I’d hitchhiked with him. It’s not like his anger had been unfounded, after all.

I left a breath of silence between us, wondering what was still bothering him. Deciding it best to move away from the topic of my SOUL, I tried to change the subject.

“So how did you know something had happened?” I asked curiously. Ok, so maybe not moving _totally_ away from the topic. I was curious, ok?

“uh, i could just tell.” Sans replied. It was in no way a satisfying answer, but he was suddenly so avoidant that I left it alone.

“Is Papyrus mad at me?” I asked, once again changing the subject. Sans relaxed now, falling back into his usual nonchalance as he sat down on the floor beside me.

“no. he doesn’t really know how to be mad at anyone,” Sans said, and I made a noise of concern, “but he was also kind of proud that you got out. he’s never known a more worthy opponent.” I giggled lowly at that.

“I get the impression that not too many humans have fallen down here,” I said, motioning toward the kibble, dog bed, and squeaky toy, “He doesn’t really seem to know what to do with me.”

“you got that right, kid—tea,” Sans corrected himself.

“How long has it been since the last human fell?” I asked, figuring a good game of twenty questions could help alleviate the tension a bit. Sans made a strange noise and said that that was a difficult question, “Just being curious.” I said a little defensively.

“that’s just too complicated to get into right now,” Sans said, scratching the back of his skull and glancing at me, “but i don’t mind answering any questions you have.” I thought for a moment, mentally pursuing the list of things I hadn’t known to ask Toriel yet.

“What _do_ monsters teach kids about humans?” I asked, because now it seemed kind of pertinent. I picked up the squeaky toy and spun it around in my hand while Sans thought about it.

“not much, really. just that they’re to be feared if you come across one, and that they’re the reason we’re stuck down here.” Sans said. I flinched a little.

“Fair point about humans being shitlords, but _fear_? Really?” I questioned, squeaking the toy and looking innocent. Sans waved his hand again.

“hey, one question at a time,” He said, “and besides, i think i should get one now.” I shrugged at the proposal; it wasn’t like I wouldn’t share about myself and humanity, but I still wasn’t certain in my memories.

“You can try, but I don’t exactly remember everything about the surface.”

“you don’t remember the surface?” Sans asked, genuinely surprised.

“Not everything. It’s kind of fuzzy,” I tried to think of how to phrase it, “Like a window all fogged up with condensation, you know? I can kind of make some stuff out—shapes and movement and stuff— but on the whole I can’t see shit.”

“do you remember anything from right before you fell?” Sans urged, but it was my turn to stop him.

“Question for a question!” I said triumphantly, winking at his annoyance, “Are all monsters in the Underground? I mean, was it really possible to hunt down every member of an entire race and lock them away? That doesn’t seem possible.”

“can’t really say for sure. but monsters can’t blend in as easily as humans,” Sans said and I gave him a no-shit-sherlock look, “it’s our SOULS more than anything, they’re different from human SOULS and easier to single out.”

“Ok, that was enough of a response. You still want to know if I remember anything from before I fell?” I asked, and Sans nodded, “Well I don’t remember a damn thing about that morning.” I laughed at the look of exasperation on his face.

“wait, you said morning,” Sans phrased it so it wasn’t a question, “that’s not nothing.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said quietly, wondering if I’d really remembered that, or if it was just a turn of phrase. Before I could think on it too hard, Sans was motioning for another question, “Oh right. Uh, I guess I should ask what the war was even about.” Sans was silent for three long seconds.

“well, you gonna ask then?”

“Yes, you dick!” I sighed deeply as his grin grew impish, “What was the war between our species fought over?”

“i actually don’t know that one, sorry.” Sans said more seriously, “i’m more concerned with the future than the past. but you could ask some of the old-timers; they might remember.”

“If I’m not carted off to face my fate,” I said, but with a small smile, “Question?”

“what did you like to do on the surface?” Sans asked. I raised my eyes, looking off distantly and trying to think of an answer. This was less of mental fog and more just a lack of self-awareness.

“You know, after almost two decades of schooling, you’d think I’d be more prepared with an answer to the ‘tell us about yourself’ question,” I mused for a minute, “I mean, I played guitar sometimes, but I wouldn’t say I liked it all that much. I had started playing at open-mic nights, for whatever reason.” I leaned my head against the wall and looked back over at Sans, who was watching me with the most unreadable look I’d seen from him yet.

“so, just some kind of college-aged hipster, then?” He asked kind of coyly, which made me flush a bit.

“I’ll never tell,” I said, suddenly aware of how close he was sitting next to me. Was he sweating a bit at the base of his skull? And holy shit, I should not be observing him that closely, “And besides, that’s another question. I get one first.”

“ask away, then.” Sans said, swiveling his head away from me but still visibly nervous.

“So you said some monsters are pre-war, I think—and no, that’s not my question. So, how old can monsters live, then?” I asked, clearing my throat a bit.

“depends. some live for centuries, some have lifespans like a human.” Sans said. Well, it was an answer. About what I’d expected, anyway, “uh—you’re taking the living-for-centuries thing pretty well.”

“Yeah, well,” I said casually, “It kind of makes sense, honestly. Trying to put human logic on anything down here is kind of pointless. So why not, you know? Monsters are literally made of magic, so living a long time probably makes more sense than not.”

Sans was looking at me in that way again, and I didn’t really know what to say to it. I mean, it made sense, didn’t it? If my logic meant nothing down here, why not just believe what was told to me? I had no reason to believe Sans—or Toriel, for that matter—would lie or had lied to me.

I trusted them. I trusted Sans.

“So,” I said, looking away again, “Let’s say one more question each, for now. You first.” Sans was quiet, like he was truly thinking about his question.

“what do you think you’re looking for down here?”

I also took a moment to think that over. He seemed really genuine, and (as it was the whole reason for me moving on from the Ruins) it did me no good to not answer seriously. So what did I think it was?

“I think I’m looking for something I lost,” I said earnestly, “I think I had been unhappy for a long time, up on the surface, I mean. And for whatever reason, something in me knows it’s down here.”

Several beats of quiet followed. Not silence, per say, but quiet.

“God, I fucking hope so anyway. What am I gonna do if it isn’t?” I laughed, wiping at my face when it felt like I might start getting emotional again. Man, I must be thoroughly exhausted at this point.

“i think you’ll find it.” Sans said simply, and I nodded thoughtfully while staring straightforward.

“So, if we’re doing serious questions then…” I faded off, debating how sobering I could stand to keep the conversation at this point. I was emotionally spent, so instead I asked, all feigned evenness, “What’s the best place in town to get a good burger?”

Sans split in laughter at that, actually grabbing at his face with a hand and falling back against the wall. My countenance broke too, and I joined him in laughter. I turned to face him, tucking my legs under my lap, to pull his hand away from his face.

“Don’t you laugh at my question! I _need_ to know! My human interests must be catered to.” I said, still giggling like an idiot, “I’ve always been told that’s an important question to ask when travelling.”

“travelling, huh?” Sans asked, still kind of holding my palm, “well I’m afraid burgers will have to wait for another day, otherwise we might break my bro’s heart.” He started to stand, pulling me up with him and heading for the locked gate.

“How so?” I asked, letting a little hope spark in my chest.

“seems you’ve made quite an impression on my brother,” Sans said, “not only did he make a special dinner for you, despite your little escapade earlier, he made enough pasta for all of snowdin.”

“Oh thank god, so I didn’t upset him, then?” I said, visibly relaxing, “I’ve never been more relieved for a spaghetti dinner.”

“oh just wait. after you see papyrus’s cooking, you’ll be _eating_ those words.” Sans said, pulling me through the ankle-deep snow and laughing at my cry of annoyance.


	7. Just as a Hobbyist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks as always for all the love, it means a lot to me. :D
> 
> This chapter's a little short, but it did just kind of naturally end where it does. I'm looking to have another chapter up sometime this weekend, but with work it might not happen til Monday.
> 
> I think it's time for this song to be employed, if for no other reason than the title's a bit of a running joke and it makes me laugh: "Pour Decisions" by the Real McKenzies.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_gTDBzhQkQ
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

There was only one thing worse than Papyrus’s cooking, and that was the smug look Sans was giving me as I did my best to keep eating.

Before today, if you’d asked me what was the one thing anybody could cook, I would have said spaghetti. Or breakfast—god, scrambled eggs have never sounded more amazing than right now. After all, I myself am a less-than-accomplished chef but could still find it within me to boil water and warm up pasta sauce. But now it might seem that there was more of an art to making pasta than I’d previously thought, because whatever I was eating, spaghetti it was not.

I couldn’t be sure what was throwing the dish. Maybe how slimy the noodles were, having been cooked within an inch of their lives? Or perhaps the grainy buildup coalescing on the bottom of the plate, probably from a dangerously over-zealous salting of the boiling water? Or even still, it could be the sauce itself which, to Papyrus’s credit was definitely seasoned.

And, taking another bite under the master chef’s gleeful gaze, I decided that it was the sauce. Definitely the sauce, which had surely started as a modest tomato paste and rosemary combination, only to be modified on a cellular level by every kind of spice imaginable. This bite tasted so terribly and powerfully of cinnamon and cayenne pepper that I feared I might breathe literal fire across the table to scorch that pompously amused look right off of Sans’s skull.

Or—

Oh god.

Or I must just vomit.

Well, either option would probably be dramatic enough to shut Sans up. At least I’d win that battle, even if it meant sacrificing my dignity. I was petty enough to still call it a victory.

Ok Teagan, Papyrus is still watching. Don’t spit it up, just drink some water. And concentrate. No breathing, just drinking. After a few agonizing moments, this mantra was enough to pull me back into the world with a huge, heaving sigh.

Shit, don’t say heaving—

“THAT LOOK!” I turned my attention to Papyrus again, who was watching my anguish with saucer-like eyes, “NO ONE HAS EVER RESPONDED TO MY SPAGHETTI WITH SUCH PASSION.” Oh my god, how could I even be mad at him? Never in my life had I allowed someone to injure me so utterly just to turn around and smile at them for it; but I couldn’t deny Papyrus.

I was charmed the minute I met him.

“Ha,” I said, voice scratchy and throat still searing, “Caught me.”

“maybe you’d like seconds, then?” Sans asked me, his tone silky and his eyes sparkling with mischief. Oh he was gonna get it.

“PERHAPS THE HUMAN SHOULD SAVE SOME FOR LATER,” Papyrus reasoned, to which I nodded so vigorously that it shook up the churning pit of food in my stomach, “I’D HATE FOR YOU TO EAT TOO MUCH AND NEVER WANT ANY MORE!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I said quietly, running to the kitchen to pour myself more water. I downed the glass with some caution, not wanting to drink too fast and unsettle my stomach again. Sans and Papyrus started cleaning up around me, which I wish I could have contributed to; but I was so busy trying to cling to this plane of existence that I could do little more than move out of the way.

“Thanks for dinner.” I said to Papyrus as he washed dishes and put them to dry on the rack. This I did mean, despite it all. The gesture was appreciated, even if the quality was lacking.

It’s the thought that counts, right? Eh.

“OF COURSE, HUMAN—TEAGAN.” He corrected himself, not unlike his brother earlier, “I SO VERY SELDOM GET TO COOK FOR ANYONE OTHER THAN MY BROTHER. THIS WAS—” Papyrus cut himself off.

“Fun.” I finished for him, smiling sweetly. Poor thing; was he worried to admit too much, knowing he’d been sending me off —to wherever captured humans were sent— before long? But at the glowing smile he returned to me, the tiny bubble of doubt still burrowing in my gut finally dissipated. I’d have bet everything I had that Papyrus wasn’t going to harm me, come what may.

Just as I was starting to feel awkward, not really sure where I was and wasn’t allowed to go yet, Papyrus steered me into the living with a surprisingly delicate hand on my shoulder. Sans was sprawled on the same worn couch I had fallen into a few hours ago, apparently sleeping. I couldn’t help but giggle at him, covering my mouth with the sleeve of my flannel as he released a massive snore and roused himself from sleep.

“You gonna scooch or nah?” I asked him, nudging his leg with my boot. Well, I should have known not to give him the option, because he took that as his chance to stretch out as far as he could across the cushions, “Oh no, _wherever_ will I sit?” I mocked, realizing that there was still more than enough room at the opposite end and plopping down without the slightest hindrance.

Sans wasn’t an especially tall skeleton.

Maybe he too had just realized his own –ahem— _short_ comings, because he did actually look disappointed at how little of a struggle I had to put up. I tickled the sole of his foot, hesitating only to observe how strangely solid it seemed despite just being bone, to bring back the playfulness in him. He didn’t exactly squeal at the sensation, like I would have expected from a human, but instead made a strangled noise in his throat.

“Remember that next time you try to keep me off the couch.” I told him, looking over to his face; I only got a quick glimpse, noticing a subtle cyan glow on his cheeks, before he threw a pillow over his face.

“BROTHER, WHY ARE YOU HIDING? DID TEAGAN SCARE YOU? I KNOW THEY CAN BE TERRIFYING CREATURES!” Papyrus came back into the living room after journeying upstairs to retrieve something from what I assumed was his room.

“I tickled him and now I think he’s pouting.” I explained, giggling again as Sans made some unintelligible sound through the pillow. Papyrus cackled manically and, feeling emboldened from our interactions all evening, I held up a hand for him to high-five. He responded with as much vigor as I, honestly, should have anticipated, leaving my hand tingly in that pins-and-needles kind of way.

Papyrus turned to sit on the carpet, his gleaming white battle body standing out starkly against the dizzying purple and red zig zags. He patted a spot next to him as Sans started to squirm again, pushing at me to move with his feet. I couldn’t help but tickle his foot again before leaving and joining Papyrus on the floor. It was now that I noticed what he had brought downstairs: it looked like a board game.

“Chutes and Ladders?” I asked quizzically, trying to keep the judgement out of my voice.

“MY FAVORITE GAME! BUT I CAN NEVER GET SANS TO PLAY IT WITH ME,” Papyrus declared jovially despite a grunt from the couch, “ALL HE LIKES IS CHESS.” I shook my head slowly, tsking.

“Not nearly enough action, I agree,” I humored Papyrus, who cackled again as he took out the game board and set it between us, “You apparently have much better taste than your brother.” I added indulgently, just to annoy Sans; he could hide all he wanted, but I knew he was listening. Papyrus faltered, spilling a few pieces across the floor as his hands slipped.

“NYEH—YES, IF YOU SAY SO, HUMAN.” He said.

“ _Teagan_.” I reminded him, taking the pieces from his hand as his eyes darted around the room.

The game went on without a hitch, aside from my terrible boredom. Even Papyrus couldn’t make Chutes and Ladders interesting. Although, watching him cry with delight anytime he took a chute, sliding his piece across the board as if he really were going down a slide, was pretty adorable. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t want that to happen.

Honestly, watching him make his own fun, his own way, was really amazing. It was a rare talent.

“Gosh, foiled again by the Great Papyrus!” I said for what felt like the millionth time, despite just meeting him this morning. I hopped my game piece over the last tile, which should technically mean I won; but I hated to take anything away from Papyrus, so I tried to play it off, “Since I got to the last square, I won’t be able to take any more chutes. You obviously win because you can keep having fun and I can’t.” I reasoned. Sans snorted on the couch behind me but Papyrus wasn’t thrown, instead standing and posing victoriously.

“NYEH HEH! WHILE I MAY HAVE WON THIS ROUND, FEAR NOT: FOR YOU CAN PLAY CHUTES AND LADDERS WITH ME ANYTIME YOU WISH… TEAGAN!” Papyrus cheered, cranking his usual 10-volume voice all the way up to an 11.

“And maybe someday I’ll be as astoundingly brilliant at it as you are, Papyrus.” I laughed, sitting back against the carpet on my elbows to look up at him. There he was again, looking everywhere around the living room but at me. Was he being nervous?

Oh my god—

Was he _blushing_?

“You ok there, dude?”

“HUMAN—TEAGAN—YOU ARE FLIRTING WITH ME.” That was not a question. Uh oh. Before I could even refute it, Papyrus was talking over me, “IT IS CUSTOMARY TO GO ON A DATE AFTER FLIRTING WITH SOMEONE, SO I WILL NOW ASK YOU ON A DATE!”

Well that was confusingly worded. I tried to glance to Sans but, despite him still being on the couch, he rolled over to face the back of the seat. Wow, so not helpful. All the while, Papyrus was still looking down at me, appearing to be somewhat confused too, for his part. He must be waiting on me to reply.

“Um, yes?” My reply was in the affirmative, but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t totally baffled by this situation. Because I _was_ confused.

So very confused.

“PERFECT, I WILL JUST GO CHANGE INTO MY DATING ATTIRE THEN, SHALL I?” Papyrus continued, sounding more confident. Dating attire? Uh.

“Yeah sure.”

What?

Papyrus sped off for his room again, sending Chutes and Ladders game pieces flying as he vaulted over the board. I remained on the carpet, feeling like I’d mistakenly taken some kind of drug. Was this real life? Was this all actually happening? I was apparently going on a date with a skeleton monster, what even was reality anymore?

“so. papyrus, huh?” I heard a small voice behind me. Oh right, Sans was still here.

“Traitor!” I hissed quietly to him so his brother wouldn’t hear. I spun around and picked up a pillow to throw at him, “I had no idea what to say and you’re just over here pretending to sleep?”

“you said yes pretty fast for not having any idea what to say.” Sans said, tossing the pillow back to me; but it was weak. It lacked humor.

“Are you seriously sulking right now?” I glared at him and his stupid, unhelpful face. He just swiveled his head away from me and scratched at the corner of his mouth, mumbling something that might have sounded a bit like “maybe.”

“Sans, this is kind of an accident. He basically blindsided me. Now take pity on me and tell me what to do,” I beseeched him, moving to sit beside him on the couch as he sat up, “Please. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

Sans searched my face for a moment and the strain in his face seemed to fade. He grabbed my hand delicately and looked down at it, making me flush a little bit. Why was he being so touchy now when he could barely manage to keep eye contact with me after I’d met him outside the Ruins? He looked a little lost in thought, staring intently down at the creases in my palm; I cleared my throat to bring him back to me.

“don’t worry about it, this is pretty typical of paps,” Sans said, unusually quiet, “i probably should have assumed he’d ask you out eventually.”

“Wow. Should I be insulted, or should I be insulted for your brother?” I asked with a little laugh, even though I knew it more of a compliment.

Right?

…right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, as an added thought, would you guys be ok with me switching up the POV every once in a while? Might be fun to get in Sans's head again. ;)


	8. Sleeping for 40 Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't gone to sleep yet, so technically it's still Monday! Hooray! (Oh maker, I'm so tired).
> 
> As I hinted I might do, I switched POVs in this chapter to Sans; I like getting in his head and showing his perspective. It also gives me a chance to recap a little, and shed some light on things that Teagan wouldn't really know. That said, this chapter has some exposition and a lot of detail/description. I like to get some in when I can so this story isn't all fluff and dialogue; POV switches are a good way to get into that, so I might do this every few chapters.
> 
> The chapter title is a play on "40 Day Dream" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes, which is a song I'm super into at the moment. Maybe give it a listen while you read? ;D  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7nD1T7mjp8
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Thanks as always for the kudos and comments (I'm trying to keep up with responding to everyone now)!

She could never have known how utterly she had stupefied him—in the most amazing, heart-wrenching way— just by appearing. And from hearing her voice again, so musical and sweet. And from seeing her move, her face shifting between beautiful, expressive forms as she looked into his face. And—

Shit, she was watching him intently. She’d said something to him. Oh no, what had she said? He’d been so distracted by her very presence that the world seemed to slip away. Time slowed and dilated around her, conforming around the gravity she exerted just by being here, in the Underground.

With him.

But she’d definitely said something; she was waiting on a response and not getting one. She said something else, but he was still trying to knock the white noise out of his skull so he could listen to her and—dammit, just concentrate and stop worrying that this isn’t real either. Because it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities for this fucked up world to throw another, new pain his way. And honestly now that he was thinking about it, this made absolutely no sense: her suddenly finding her way down here, a place she’d never even asked about before. Shit shit shit shit—

“You’re Sans, right?”

Oh thank the powers that be. Yes, yes that was him. Fucking hell, he’d never been so happy to be who he was. He was Sans and she was—

He still didn’t know her name.

It felt like such a terrible crime to not even know her name that he had to know it before the world swallowed her up in another reset or she was revealed to be some terrible part of his own mind, torturing itself. The question tumbled out of his mouth of its own accord, sounding like a terrible, awkward non sequitur on par with—fuck, he couldn’t even think of an analogy. He just wanted to hear her answer.

Get out of your head and listen, idiot.

“I’m Teagan.” She’d said, with the most Teagan-of-smiles and a wave. The second she said it, it was like he’d always known and a veil was lifted in his mind.

He was Sans. And she was Teagan. And she was here, with him. Again.

He could cry.

But he couldn’t. He had appearances to keep up. So, in a way that broke his own heart to do it, Sans put up his mask; he’d never had to do it with her before and it broke him a little. Sure, he’d have to reintroduce himself to her from reset to reset, but this was different.

This felt like a lie.

His forced nonchalance; his casual easiness; even the way he teased her: it all felt like he was deceiving her. Everything in him was screaming to reach out and grab her, to hold on forever and say “fuck it” to continuity and the resets and this hollow representation of reality he’d been trapped in for longer than he could comprehend.

But he couldn’t just tell her her own history—because honestly, would she even believe him?— but fuck if he was almost desperate enough to try it anyway. Because it was his history, too. Their history.

And he wanted it back. Patience be damned.

But as Sans watched Teagan interact with his brother, in the most easy and comfortable way imaginable, he couldn’t help but see so much of their time together reflected in her mannerisms: she was taking to everything like a duck to water. It was like she already belonged here. But more than just humoring the Underground (and his brother), she seemed determined—no, don’t say that word—

She persevered despite it all.

She pressed on past the obstacles, in ways he’d never seen Frisk even attempt. She endured what he knew was searing pain, all for the sake of Papyrus, whom she’d only just met. She stood firm—figuratively speaking—even when she had to fall over in the snow. She persisted, exactly as she was before, despite how fucked everything was; and she didn’t even know it. She was changing everything and she didn’t even know it, much less know why.

But Sans would remind her, no matter how long it took. If she’d found her way here, she could find her way back to her memories. Sans would do whatever it took, however long it took, to help her there.

She’d been an anchor in his life just as he’d been losing his grip, and now he could do the same for her. He could abide.

And at that, Sans couldn’t help but let himself hope, one last time. That nonspecific, innocent, naïve kind of hope that made him stupid and blind, but had also led him to her; so how could he fault it. As his SOUL thrummed, he could almost imagine he felt hers responding in kind; and that was enough for him for now.

But damn did she make it hard to be patient; her own restlessness seemed to bring it out of him too.

She read him better than she probably knew, responding to him so like she had on the surface that his mask had started to fall without him even noticing. As she sat there in the toolshed, arms looped through the bars and face leaning in as close to him as possible, he had to actively remind himself not to get too complacent just yet.

“you just gotta learn some patience, tea.” He had said to her, like he wasn’t telling himself the exact same thing as she screwed up her face, the bridge of her nose scrunching how it does when she was doubting something. He adored that look, like her innate curiosity was struggling within her and trying to break out.

Pull back, Sans, he told himself. Show a little restraint. Control.

He was always in control of himself, even if he couldn’t control anything else.

Damn it, Teagan. Or not.

Why hadn’t he anticipated her trying to pass through the void with him? He should know not to tease her and just expect her to take it without getting the last word. She was damn stubborn like that. He should have known. How had he not noticed her grabbing his hood as he’d phased out of the shed?

He knew she’d be fine—physically—but he had no idea what that kind of magic would do to her mind. He hadn’t been able to broach the conversation of her memories with her yet, because she had yet to bring it up. Sans knew she was probably missing some information, because the barrier has a tendency to divide whatever passes through it; he just didn’t know yet what parts she had lost.

And he for sure as hell had no idea how intense exposure to magic—especially that in the void—would affect her. What if she got all of her memories back in a flash? Would she believe them and be overloaded, or would she outright reject them as fabrications? Or—fuck—what if she lost everything?

Sans was so busy preparing himself for the worst, in whatever fashion the void chose, that the truth of what actually happened nearly sent him reeling: nothing happened.

In fact, she seemed completely unchanged at all: trying to make light of the situation and somehow taking it all in stride. She was more concerned about alleviating his own fears than she was with understanding what had surely been a mentally daunting leap of logic. So when she grabbed his hand to ground herself in reality, Sans was all too happy to give her that support and let his anger at her evaporate.

But he was still furious with himself.

He didn’t hide it well enough. She caught on. He just wished he could tell her that she was misinterpreting it: why would he waste precious time being angry with her when he was just so thrilled to even have her here at all.

Ok.

Ok, he really just needed to leave her by herself for a while. He needed to compose himself again before he—

Holy shit, his SOUL _hurt_.

Out of nowhere, his SOUL felt tighter and more sorrowful that it had since he’d woken up in that first reset—the one after he decided he couldn’t spend time with her anymore. He’d gone so many resets without feeling anything other than lonely and numb, but Teagan shows up and his SOUL is screaming at him before the end of the first day.

With little more than a noise somewhere between frustration and grief, Sans had phased right in front of her and grabbed her shoulder. She was distant and passive, like she wasn’t even in the moment.

She was far away.

Sans didn’t know what he had expected, because there was no reason to assume another monster had attacked her in the shed; but that really could be the only reason he’d felt her SOUL pull at his own so insistently, like it was crying out. Again, she surprised him. He should just start getting used to it; he couldn’t predict her like he thought he could after all.

Things really were changing.

This was the thought Sans used to comfort himself once he’d realized she _had_ actually touched her SOUL—and he distracted himself further by feeling jealousy that Toriel had apparently removed it at some point too.

Distraction was key here. Latch onto that petty jealousy. Focus on what was happening now. Don’t think about it.

Because there was really only one way Teagan would be able to come into contact with her own SOUL by her own doing… But Sans was doggedly ignoring the thought. He couldn’t deal with it now, not so soon after getting her back into his life.

That was an issue for another day.

Somehow Teagan could tell. She could read him so well; she knew him without _knowing_ she knew him. And she was changing the subject right away, keeping him busy with questions to help him distance himself from a revelation he didn’t yet want to admit.

Their conversation picked right back up on their usual cadence, without hardly any effort. It was so easy, so natural.

Fuck, too natural. There he went, getting too close again—this time it wasn’t emotional distance, but physical. He really was trying to hold back, honest. But when he watched her emote in that candid way she had, when he heard her giggle at his dumb humor, when he heard her recount things about herself that he shouldn’t know yet but did: how could he not slip back into his actual self? Just change the scenery around them from Papyrus’s toolshed to that basement, candle-lit bar or her cluttered one-bedroom apartment and nothing would be different.

Now that they were together again, the impressions on each of their SOULs didn’t matter. They were both fundamentally changed, and yet they were no different. It was hard to conceptualize, but for once Sans found himself not wanting to analyze it. He didn’t want to scribble it all down in his journals or test the boundaries of the reset.

He just wanted to be. Maybe now he’d have his chance.

OR—

Or Papyrus could ruin that chance before he’d even get it.

Sans wanted to hate his brother so badly for asking her on a date, but in the end he had to settle on just feeling bad for himself. Fuck it all, what was even the point? Why did he always get his hopes up?

Sure she said she didn’t know what she’d done, that she’d just said yes on the spur of the moment. And yes, he could hear her genuine appeal to him for help in letting Papyrus down easily. But even as he was half-heartedly reassuring her—and himself—that it didn’t mean anything serious, he was taking her hand and memorizing the creases in her palm like he’d never be allowed to hold it again.

She’d gone off with Papyrus about an hour ago, him leading her by the hand out the front door in such a doting and tender manner that it made his heart heavy to imagine it even after-the-fact. Never one prone to pacing, Sans had somehow found himself practically doing laps around the house while he waited for them to return. The entire time, his mind tried to remain on one thought: patience.

Be patient. Like you told her.

Patience.

Patience is a virtue.

Be patient and you can play it cool once she gets back.

Just _wait_.

Take your time.

 _Patience_. Learn it, Sans.

“oh fuck it.” Sans said into the empty house, and blipped through the void. He knew where Papyrus had gone. And he knew exactly how far away he had to be to not be seen.

He’d given patience a chance, and it hadn’t gotten him anything.

Fuck waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note: I'm usually pretty good at catching my own syntax errors, but usually at least one or two will slip through into the chapter. I try to update as I catch them, but I apologize if you read it before that happens. Hope it doesn't turn anyone off from the story; I try to edit as best and as fast as I can! :)


	9. Audible Wink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOO. I had intended to put up a chapter yesterday, but I ended up getting very drunk at work and didn't think I'd be in the best head space to write. At least, not for the content of this chapter. Maybe a later one. ;D
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the comments and kudos! Last chapter we broke 1000 hits and 100 kudos! I'm super, super thrilled with how much you guys seemed to enjoy this story; it's so encouraging. I appreciate you guys so much!
> 
> I wasn't sure on a song for this chapter, as the tone switches a few times between a few different scenes. But I had originally intended "This Girl" by Kungs vs Cookin on 3 Burners to be the song for this chapter, so that'll work.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8imGJEBNCc
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The last time I’d travelled through this part of Snowdin forest, Papyrus had been carrying me and sprinting toward the town. Even still, despite my feet being firmly on the snowy ground, Papyrus may as well have been carrying me this time too; he was leading me by the hand and walking so quickly that all I could focus on was keeping up. Eventually we slid across another sheet of ice and slipped down a snowbound into a secluded clearing off the main drag of the forest path.

“IT IS CUSTOMARY TO TAKE A DATE TO A PLACE VERY SPECIAL TO YOU!” Papyrus exclaimed, releasing my hand to cast it dramatically over the small area. It was quiet (with the exception of my “date’s” carrying voice) and serene; snow shook from treetops above us to settle on the ground and on what appeared to be a mound of snow and a Papyrus-lookalike snowman.

On approaching the snowman to take in its adorably exaggerated features, I also noticed that what looked like an unassuming pile of snow had “sans” written across it in sloppy red marker.

“That makes sense.” I said quietly with a small, lopsided smile.

“AH, I SEE THAT YOU HAVE FOUND MY BROTHER’S SAD EXCUSE FOR A SNOW SKELETON!” Papyrus said, coming to stand beside me—also: snow skeletons, oh my god.

“I think these perfectly epitomize the two of you,” I said, snorting a little at the look of confusion on Papyrus’s face, “They’re very you.” I clarified.

“YES, I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT THINK SO,” He said, “MY BROTHER AND I SPEND A LOT OF TIME HERE TOGETHER.”

I turned to look out over the rest of the clearing but there wasn’t much to see: it was quiet and empty aside from the two snow skeletons—or rather, the one and Sans’s “contribution.”

It made me a little sad in a strange way.

This place must seem awfully small once you’ve seen it all.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT, TEAGAN?” Papyrus asked, watching my face with more scrutiny than I’d have expected from him. A small smile returned to my face.

“I’m ok,” I reassured him quickly before elaborating, “I’m just feeling a little ashamed for humanity, I suppose. It’s not right what our ancestors did to monsters, trapping you all down here.” Papyrus shook his head, looking concerned for a brief instant.

“I DON’T MIND IT DOWN HERE,” Papyrus said, gesturing all around him, “THERE’S ALWAYS SNOW TO MAKE SNOW SKELETONS AND HAVE SNOWBALL FIGHTS! AND I GET TO TRAIN FOR THE ROYAL GUARD WITH UNDYNE MOST MORNINGS! AND MY BROTHER KEEPS ME COMPANY ALL OTHER TIMES.”

Papyrus seemed determined to list as many reasons he enjoyed the Underground as he could think of, which I imagined was many. I held up a hand to cut him off when he seemed likely to launch into another accolade, and he thankfully stopped.

“All of that sounds amazing, I have to admit,” I conceded, “But don’t you wonder what else there is?”

“WHAT MORE DO I NEED? SNOWDIN IS MY HOME.” Papyrus replied, looking genuinely perplexed.

That thought hadn’t occurred to me. Maybe Papyrus was happy down here, and it was terribly presumptuous of me to assume life on the surface was any better than it was in the Underground. Maybe there was something to the idea of being happy with what you had, in taking what you’re given and making the most of it.

“That makes sense.” I echoed myself, crossing my arms and looking upwards toward the ceiling of the cavern, which had seemed confining before but now seemed to have grown another ten feet higher.

“COME, HUMAN! LET’S ADD A SNOW SKELETON OF YOU NOW.” Papyrus prompted me, kneeling in the fluffy snow and starting to push some into a pile.

“Well, with your help I’m sure I can make something at least a little better than your brother.” I said with a chuckle, bending to help him.

In the end, we managed to make something at least vaguely resembling a human. Papyrus was unhappy with the hair, however, stating that it could be mistaken for any other human otherwise. Choosing not to say that our snow skeleton had more relation to a weeble wobble than a human woman, I instead elected to jump up and grab a fist full of leaves from a neighboring tree and arrange them in a way that kind of resembled my shoulder-length hair and bun. The color wasn’t quite right, but I figured there wasn’t any way to get a closer green than that.

Papyrus gave me a thumbs-up before holding his hand aloft for a high-five. I had to jump up again to reach it, but couldn’t help but laugh and I landed back on solid ground. My stomach burn twinged a bit, but not nearly enough to distract me from the fun I was having.

“You know how to show a girl a good time, Papyrus,” I said, causing him to blush and stutter a bit, “Anything else you want to do?” I asked him, giving him a chance to recover.

We ended up sitting on a cliff just a ways away, staring out over the valley below. Dark, glowing eyes peered out through cracks in the rockface behind us, but it didn’t fill me with any unease. More than just feeling safe with Papyrus, I seemed to just feel safe in general.

“DO YOU LIKE THE UNDERGROUND?” Papyrus asked me, again catching me off-guard with his surprising perceptiveness. If I’d been paying more attention just then, I might have caught the subtle scent of ketchup and cedar mix with the natural pine from the nearby woods.

“You know, I actually kind of do,” I said, looking from him out over the valley again. A distant cabin, windows shining merrily like a beacon in the white noise of the snowy landscape, became my focal point as I thought over my words, “I don’t think I was very happy before I came down here. On the surface, I mean.”

Papyrus had a questioning but kindhearted look, signaling me to continue if I was comfortable enough to tell him.

“I don’t remember a lot of specifics from then, but I guess I felt really alone. Isolated,” I said, laughing a little bitterly, “I don’t think I have a lot in common with humanity, if I’m honest.”

“BUT YOU ARE A HUMAN.” Papyrus said, not quite understanding what I meant. I nodded and leveled a hand.

“Well yeah, but you can be something on the outside and still feel like you aren’t on the inside.” I tried to explain, and Papyrus seemed contemplative.

“SO IF YOU DON’T FEEL HUMAN, DO YOU THINK YOU’RE A MONSTER?” Papyrus tried to parse out my—admittedly— confusing inner conflict in terms he could understand.

“Nothing like that, but I did feel drawn down here,” I said, “I’ve just never really felt like I belonged up on the surface. Much less so recently.”

“HUMAN—TEAGAN,” Papyrus said, suddenly struck with inspiration, “I BELIEVE ALL YOU NEED TO FEEL BETTER IS TO FEEL LIKE YOU FIT IN! YOU NEED A FRIEND!”

Another small smile tugged at a corner of my mouth, and I looked up shyly into Papyrus’s face a foot and a half above me. I didn’t say anything, letting him continue.

“IF IT WOULD MAKE YOU HAPPY, I CAN BE YOUR FIRST, BEST FRIEND IN THE UNDERGROUND. AFTER ALL, I AM VERY GREAT!”

Ah, there it was.

I was so thrilled that Papyrus seemed to be letting me in—fully letting me in, that is—that I couldn’t help but reach up to crush his neck in a hug. He returned it a moment latter with his signature cackle.

“I do think that would make me happy.” I said quietly, not sure whether I was confirming it for Papyrus or for myself. But it didn’t really matter.

In the end, that was just a detail.

And as for details, Papyrus said that he had to go get things ready back at home (“You can stay on our couch, like a sleepover!”) and then he had to report in to Undyne (“Fear not, I wouldn’t sell out my newest best friend!”). As he streaked off back toward Snowdin, it seemed that I was once again free to be on my own. Just one day in Snowdin, and I was already convincing a would-be Royal Guard to protect me instead of turn me over to his boss and other best friend.

Actually, had it been more than a day now?

Stifling a huge yawn at the thought, I absentmindedly pulled my cellphone out of my jacket pocket to check the screen for the time.

“Oh yeah,” I said dully as I glanced at the blank screen, “Dead. Also, highly unlikely to work under a fucking mountain.”

“trying to phone a friend?” I heard the unmistakably low and teasing voice of Sans approach and sit beside me, our legs dangling lazily over the edge of the cliff.

“Force of habit, cut me some slack.” I said, slipping back into the clipped but cheeky pattern of speech I took with him. He held out a hand for my phone, and I gave it to him before laying down fully against the snow to stare into the cavern ceiling. The more I looked, the more accustomed to it I became.

“i can get it working. give me a second and stay here.” Sans said simply. I shrugged to cover up a shiver.

“No promises, it’s fucking freezing out here.” I replied before he phased into the void with a smile.

Well at least this time he had let me get the last word before abandoning me again. Figuring he’d know that I had started back toward Snowdin, I picked myself up from the ground and started walking. I tunneled my hands into my jacket sleeves, only removing them to haphazardly wave to the glowing eyes beside me. If I was going to be here for a while, as was quickly seeming to be the case, I’d definitely need some warmer clothes.

I crossed the rickety rope bridge—the only thing here to legitimately terrify me so far— back into Snowdin proper, rubbing my icy hands together to create some friction. The town itself seemed to be much warmer than the forest; maybe because the trees were much more compacted and kept out the wind? Regardless, I still felt chilled to the bone—ugh, I practically heard Sans’s voice in my head at that thought. Maybe I could explore the town a bit and stop in some shops to warm up?

The first building in town was simply labelled “Shop” (very helpful), so I stopped there first.

The inside of the building was so incongruous with the soothing but cold blues of Snowdin. It was dimly lit in the pleasant, relaxing oranges and reds that made me look around for a fireplace. I seemed to instantly heat up despite failing to find the source of light I had expected, but still held the tips of my fingers up to a candle flickering happily on the counter before me. The sound of a wooden door sliding open against the carpet made me glance up, and I briefly noticed a scroll (bearing that same winged symbol I’d seen all over the Underground) bounce against the door as a purple rabbit monster closed it behind her. She must be the shopkeeper.

“Hello!” I said brightly, finding it easy to muster up my most cheerful self now that I was completely thawed.

“Hello traveler,” She said, noticing my boots wet with melted snow, “What can I do for you?”

“Oh,” I said, finally bothering to look around the shop, “I’m new to town, so I was just looking around a little. I’m not sure what I need.” My cheeks were glowing a little from embarrassment now.

“Of course, help yourself!” The shopkeeper didn’t seem thrown by my response at all, crossing her arms and smiling good-naturedly as I started to shuffle around the shop, “Where did you come from?”

UH.

Uh, I hadn’t thought of an answer to that yet. Sans had mentioned that most people in the town were unlikely to recognize me as a human on-sight, unlike the forest monsters. But he had been less-than-helpful in telling me where people might expect a new person to have shown up from.

“I’m from all over, really.” I said, doing my very best to sound genuine. It felt like a lie, and it made me cringe a little to think that my first interaction with Snowdin’s populace was to lie to them; but the shopkeeper didn’t seem at all wary.

“Well we’ve got all types here! Do you need a place to stay, or are you just passing through?” She asked, her long ears twitching a little above the wide brim of her hat. Thankfully that I had an honest answer for.

“I’m staying with Sans and Papyrus,” I said, motioning in the direction of their house further into town, “They live just down there.” She nodded.

“Ah, those wacky skeletons!” She exclaimed with a little laugh, “Well if you get tired of their antics, you let my sister know. She runs the inn just next door and I’m sure she’d give you a good rate if you’re staying for a while.” Had I mentioned that I was staying a while? I don’t think I had.

What was it about monsters that made them so good at reading me and worming their way into my heart?

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” I said, returning her laugh with an endearing smile, “Thank you.”

She let me look around the store in silence now, and I was elated to find a long, woolen scarf and a set of gloves hanging from a coat tree. Papyrus hadn’t given me my backpack back yet, but I had some spare coins in my jacket pocket; counting them up, I was relieved that find that I had just enough for the scarf. I reminded myself to come back for the gloves tomorrow after getting the rest of my money. That, and for the slightly water-logged copy of the boardgame LIFE I saw up on a shelf behind the counter. If there was a game I could get both Papyrus and Sans to play, I figured that was it. And anything was better than Chutes and Ladders.

I passed through the door of the shop back into the cold; it felt like travelling through an interdimensional portal, where one side led to a tropical paradise and the other to a barren, icy tundra. I gave the shopkeeper—or, as she had introduced herself, Hattie (really?)—a final wave before shutting the door softly behind me. I pushed on past the Snowed Inn (fucking, _really_?), deciding to leave that for another day.

My intention was just to head back to the house, fully exhausted and ready for either sleep or a nice nap depending on what the time was. However, the glowing neon sign of Grillby’s caught my eye; the dim, flickering light filtering out of the large front window spilled across the ground and mixed with the colorful Christmas lights from the tree beside me. It was all so cheerful and inviting that I relented once more and entered what was obviously a bar.

Yep, definitely a bar.

The inside of Grillby’s had the same orange glow about it that the shop had, but mixed in were the telltale pinks and purples of neon; sure enough, one such sign was hung on the back wall above a darkened jukebox. I could hear the sign buzzing all the way from the door because, aside from some light, amicable chatter, the bar was quiet. Huh, the jukebox must be broken.

I turned my attentions once more to the monsters around me, not wanting a repeat of earlier. I waved a little timidly to anyone that caught my line of sight and was rewarded with toothy, enthusiastic smiles all around. Deciding to take one of the few open seats at the bar, I kept up my smile just long enough to have it fall as I took in the bartender.

“Whoa.” I intonated dimly as I realized that the fire I had seen behind the bar wasn’t from a fireplace or a hearth but instead from a monster made entirely of fire, inexplicably wearing a very neat vest and horn-rimmed glasses. His expression twisted slightly, and it seemed as though I had made him laugh as a few embers crackled off from his main form.

As I blatantly stared into his face, I had to wonder if the glasses were for his sake or for everyone else’s. I don’t think I’d have known for sure where his face even _was_ if not for the glasses.

“Grillby says you’re gonna make him blush if you keep looking at him like that,” Someone said to my left. I glanced over to see a pink bird, eyes closed from what I assumed was booze-induced lethargy, “Your first drink’s on the house, for such a compliment.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I said emphatically, waving my hands through the air to make my point, “It’s just hard not to stare.” Again Grillby seemed to laugh soundlessly, patting my hand after I realized how that had sounded and had slapped it down on the counter with embarrassment.

He turned his back to grab a few bottles, rattling things around in a mixer with an impressive speed, before returning in front of me and sliding over a rocks glass full of a red and orange mix of liquors. “House special,” his face seemed to imply.

“Uh, cheers.” I said uneasily, not sure how monster liquor would affect me. If monster food, like Toriel had given me, had magic in it, it wasn’t totally off-base to assume that this drink might do something too.

In the spirit of adventure, and not wanting to turn away a graciously-offered free drink, I tilted some of the drink into my mouth. It sparked on my tongue like pop rocks, and I felt a huge wave of warmth wash over me as I drank some more. It was sweet and bitter, strong and palatable; it was as though all of my favorite drinks had been condensed into one and they all mixed perfectly. I felt my face flush red and I hoped it was from the heat that seemed to radiate off of Grillby, and not from the obvious warmth growing in my stomach.

Drunk already? Uh oh.

“That was strong,” I slurred a little, taking another long sip. Grillby started to dry some glasses as he watched me, amused, “But _really_ good.”

I settled down in the pleasant burn of the drink, elbows resting peacefully on the slick wooden countertop. As I drank, and as everyone around me returned to their own distractions, my mind started to wander.

I felt… happy. Really happy.

My mind started to drift again, and I realized that there was only one thing that could make me even happier right now—

Oh.

Oh, I was—uh—I was _really_ happy.

Hmm. Probably best that he isn’t here right now, then.

The door clicked open once more, letting in a draft of freezing air that had me taking another huge sip of my drink to get warm again. Everyone turned and called out to the newest patron all at once. My brain jerked hard to a stop just as my heart seemed to flutter.

Fucking hell.

“Sans!” Cried the entire bar, except for me: I was a bit distracted now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh, monster liquor might be a little different than human liquor, huh Teagan?  
> hehehe


	10. The Morning Sun in My Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUUUUUUGH I AM SO SORRY  
> This chapter is late, and I am so annoyed with myself. To summarize, I suddenly had to do a lot more work for finals week than I was planning on. So basically this is my final semester (after 7 years of college) and I should be graduating now. However, I kind of became aware that I was doing bad in my classes on purpose because I subconsciously wanted to fail. I'm not particularly ready to move on into the job world, it seems. But, as things turned out, I had more points in the class I figured I'd fail and was right on the cusp of being able to pass. So I ended up doing all the work I'd fucked off on and spent a ton of time on the final (ended up getting 100% on it, btw); this is what made me miss my Tuesday deadline for this chapter. Anyway, long story long, I am officially done with classes for this semester (whether or not I actually graduate is still kind of up in the air, but I'm trying not to obsess with uncertainty). My updates should be more regular now, and I plan to do at least 2 chapters a week, but probably more. I just tend to write when inspiration strikes.
> 
> SO. For music, I recommend "Curse Me Good" by The Heavy. This song fucking grooves.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekN3X0h8TLo
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! Be excellent to each other. <3

There was nowhere to hide from the footsteps, shuffling and light, I could hear approaching my spot at the bar.

Nowhere to run.

Oh god, stop blushing, you doofus. How old are you? Sixteen? What is this, your first sip of illicit alcohol? Get your shit under control. Calm down and just act like a not completely smashed, totally normal fucking human for once. Or maybe not a human. Maybe just a person. You can do that. Rein it in.

FUCK, he’s definitely coming right for me.

Nowhere to hide.

Nowhere to hide but behind my arms.

With Sans burning holes into the back of my head, I quickly slammed my forehead down on the bar, my arms shielding me from the mirth I could feel rolling off of him in waves.

“you’re in my seat.” A hissing, teasing little whisper met my ear despite my best effort (was it though?) to shrink down to half my size and evaporate into thin air. You’d think with all the alcohol in my system that that wouldn’t be so hard, but apparently monster liquor operated under different laws of molecular chemistry.

“Blame higher levels of cohesion,” I mumbled confusingly, turning my head away and swatting at Sans’s face, “I miscalculated.” I’m pretty sure no one other than myself would understand that line, but Sans chuckled regardless and I whined out a simple “don’t laugh at _meeee_!”

“house special?” He asked, but it didn’t sound like it was directed at me. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard Grillby crackle again in the way I had assumed meant laughter. Well, confirmation received. Sans sat on the stool to my left and slid something over the bar to me, “fixed your phone. it should work just fine now.” He seemed to imply he meant _down here_ , but he didn’t announce that out loud, lest he draw questions our way.

“I should, in no way, be allowed a phone right now.” I said decidedly, turning my face in my arms to look up into Sans’s stupidly gleeful face. He was enjoying this, the prick.

Although, if the roles were reversed I can’t say that I wouldn’t also be petty enough to pester him right back. He always just seemed to be the one with the upper hand. One day I’d have to change that, if only to get even.

“why’s that?” He did a masterful job of sounding innocent, but I knew him. I cocked an eyebrow and scowled.

“First, I see right through the whole ‘oh, I’m so naïve’ act, so you’ll have to try harder,” I said, but relaxed my annoyed look now, “And second, I really don’t want to embarrass myself with anyone just yet. Drunk Teagan and texting are an ill-fated combination.”

“well at least you aren’t so far gone that you’ve forgotten who you are.” Sans said and waved at Grillby, who, apparently reading his mind, brought him two more glasses of the drink I’d somehow finished (where did I put it all?).

“Well just let me go ahead and forget you instead, then.” I said, my tone equal parts snark and playfulness. Sans stuttered for the slightest of seconds before recovering and passing me the second glass.

“don’t lose that sense of humor.” Sans said as I raised my glass to his.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” I said, taking a much larger drag from the glass than I’d intended. I sputtered a bit and held my throat as Sans openly laughed at me, “Oh god, _pour_ decision.”

Pause.

“ _I_ just made a pun! Damn it, fuck you Sans!” I cried in anguish, dropping my glass with a dangerous clatter so I could grab my head with both my hands. My dramatics were short-lived though, as my drink was back in my hand a moment later, the tiniest bit sloshing over the edge.

Were my hands shaking? Sans seemed to notice, too.

“let me know if you can’t _hand_ le this stuff, tea.” His tone was concerned but I was groaning with a fierceness rivalling Papyrus almost even before he could finish.

“You are actually the worst.” I sighed, drinking harder.

“i think i’m gonna need a little more _proof_ of that.”

“UGH, fuck you.” I yelled, but felt a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“sorry, i guess i can be a real cham- _pain_ , can’t i?” That was it, I couldn’t help but giggle. He was relentless and it wore me down.

“Nooo stop,” I said, now full-on convulsing as he snapped a finger at me and pulled a face, “Ugh, fuck _me_.” I gasped, once again having to set down my drink as I covered my mouth to quiet my laughter.

“well, only because you asked so nicely.” Sans echoed me with a flippant grin that I saw right through.

He was sweating.

“Aw ok, no need to get all flustered. I’ll keep things PG for you.” I cooed, patting his arm with all the fake condescending sympathy I could offer. Sans never seemed to let me have my fun for long though, because he was already smirking back at me.

“you don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart. i don’t mind.” His voice, now a soft growl like distant thunder, was so hushed that I felt like it was just for me. The part of my mind being influenced by the monster liquor decided it liked that.

Quite a bit.

Uh oh.

Control, Teagan. You’ve only known him a day.

…It was just a day, right?

Why did it feel like more?

There was something about the look in his eyes, the way those pinpricks of light trained on me seemed to soften when I knew he was looking into my face, that seemed so familiar. And fuck if I didn’t find myself drawn to them.

Come on, Teagan.

“My brain isn’t working quite right.” I mumbled absentmindedly as I openly stared at Sans, who, for his part, didn’t seem willing to break eye contact either. I’d wonder if his drink was making his brain stutter too, if I weren’t very aware that he had barely touched his.

“probably the magic effecting you,” Sans said, a note of restraint popping up in his voice. I could see conflict pass over his face as he reached out a hand toward me, but whatever struggle he was experiencing passed as he brushed my bangs out of my face, “we should get you out of here.”

“Home sounds like a good idea.” I agreed quietly despite my heart thundering in my chest, apparently daring my brain to try to make it stop. But at the sweet look Sans gave me—I had said “home” again, hadn’t I?—I don’t think I’d ever be able to will my heart to stop its fluttering.

Sans waved to Grillby again to signal we were leaving and stood up from his stool. I patted my jacket to pay for my drink, when I suddenly realized that I’d spent the last of my pocket money on the scarf around my neck that suddenly made me feel much too hot.

SHIT.

“Sans, I don’t have any money. Papyrus still has my backpack,” I whispered, my face pleading, “Can you please pay for my drink? I’ll pay you right back.”

“don’t worry, i put it on my tab.” Sans said with a slow shrug. That seemed like terribly bad manners on my part. I was brand new here and I’d already scammed myself two free drinks; what would people think of me? Not a very good first impression.

“Please Sans, just for mine.” I asked, trying to convey my need to not feel like a leech. He seemed to understand, because he shrugged again and put some gold down on the bar and told Grillby to cover my part of the bill. Oh, that looked like quite a bit on money. Now I felt even worse that I’d gotten the first one free.

I reached over to slam back the rest of my drink before hopping off the bar stool; I wasn’t going to insult Grillby by not drinking every bit of a drink that costs that much. Usually after doing what was essentially a shot, I’d expect the room to sway a bit, but my vision seemed wholly unaffected. Even my motor skills were, more or less, intact. In fact, the only thing that really seemed off was my ability to control myself. And, as I turned around once more to wave to Grillby on my way out, I’m pretty sure that was the intended side effect. Grillby has a positively sassy look about him as I followed Sans outside. He even held the door open for me.

“I’d have pegged Papyrus as the gentlemanly sort.” I said, a little off-kilter. I have a feeling I had just been in the center of a stage without even realizing it. We started to walk through Snowdin toward the house. It didn’t seem any darker than before, and I had to wonder what defined time down here without the sun to dictate day and night.

“what, can’t we both be?” Sans asked, falling along beside me with his hands back in his hoodie pockets, “didn’t know you’d have me competing with my brother.” I snorted with derision but smiled anyway.

“Oh please.” I said simply, figuring my demeanor made my point well enough. To Sans’s credit, though, I knew he was just kidding.

We walked in silence for a while and I took the time to look around some more. Eventually we reached a fork in the main path through town; I craned my neck to look down the north road as we continued forward. We also passed a library (or “librarby,” according to the sign above the door). I noticed a wire stand beside the door, which was about a third of the way full with what looked like newspapers. Lighting up a little, I grabbed the top copy, making sure it wasn’t a pay-for paper—good, didn’t seem to be.

“didn’t realize you actually liked that Junior Jumble I gave you earlier.” Sans seemed to be teasing me again, and instead of answering him I looked back over the paper. Sure enough, it was little more than a collection of crosswords, word searches, and cartoons.

“I thought this was a newspaper,” I finally replied, pouting and sounding disheartened. With the magic from my drinks still circulating in my system, I didn’t seem as able to control my tone, “I wrote for my university’s paper back up on the surface.” I added, tucking the paper under my arm as we kept walking.

“they do occasionally write some articles,” Sans added, once again opening the door for me as we entered the house. I knocked my boots on the mat to shake off any snow, but found that any on me had melted as soon as I crossed the doorframe, “maybe you could convince them to pick it back up again. they meet over in the library.”

“Hmm, yeah maybe.” I said noncommittedly as I slid off my jacket and scarf and hung them on a peg by the door. Normally I’d be exceedingly awkward in another person’s house, but there was something about how everyone in the Underground immediately seemed to accept me that made me feel like I belonged. Like I’d always been here.

I flopped down in the middle of the couch as Sans trailed behind me. That was doubly true here, in the house of Sans and Papyrus. Now my home too, I realized.

With that thought, I laid down fully, my legs hanging off the right armrest. I had made a point to only take two-thirds of the couch, so as to leave Sans enough room to sit down too, if he wanted. I let him think that over on his own, as he was eyeing the spot kind of nervously, and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to look it over. Eventually Sans felt comfortable enough to sit on the cushion next to my head.

“Hey, give me your numbers. You and Papyrus.” I said, arching my neck so I could see behind me. Sans reached over to grab my phone from my hands and quickly typed them in. Ok, so they did have phones. Admittedly, I had just kind of assumed.

He handed it back to me, and I immediately changed Papyrus’s contact to “SKELETOR.” Sans noticed me typing and asked about it, a bit of humor in his voice.

“It’s a very funny reference,” I said simply, to which Sans looked skeptical, “Hey, if we’d grown up together you would get this hilarious joke and appreciate my derivative, pop culture-based humor.”

“color me impressed.” Sans said, holding up his hands and looking amused with my assertions more than anything else. I rolled my eyes and saved Papyrus’s contact, turning next to the one for Sans. He’d entered his name as “sans ;)” and I made a point to change the smiley to “:|” when I saw him watching again.

That’s for doubting me. Ha.

Just as I was holding the power button to lock the screen, I felt a huge surge of tiredness wash over me. I put a hand over my ear as I felt the kind of suction you get from taking off in an airplane building up in me. I once again felt off balance, but this time it was physical.

“Oh, that isn’t fun.” I slurred a little. I closed my eyes momentarily to cease any spinning, but opening them again was extremely taxing; my eyelids each felt like they weighed twenty pounds.

“feeling tired, right?” Sans asked me as I grunted in the affirmative, “probably from the magic wearing off.”

“I don’t like it,” I said, sounding like a mixture of pathetic and petulant, “Tell it to stop that.” As I said this last line, I felt something flare inside me. Suddenly, my breath was releasing from my mouth in a cloud, as though I were walking through a chilly winter day and my breath had condensed in the air. Except it was purple.

Violet like my SOUL.

“stop that.” Sans said, staring into my face with a vacant expression, like his mind was somewhere else. He was far away.

“What?”

“what?”

I sat up to face him as he looked mildly bewildered.

“You still with me, Sans?” I asked as he blinked a few times in quick succession, “Why did you say that?”

“i have no idea,” Sans said, looking back to me and holding my gaze, despite seeming very confused, “but don’t worry, i’m still here,” I felt myself grabbing his hand to make sure and he smiled back at me, “it’s really late. i’ll go get you a pillow and a blanket for now, and we’ll work out a more permanent place for you to sleep tomorrow.”

“Ok.” I said simply while Sans stood. I guess we were once again going to gloss over whatever just happened, then. I was reminded of the incident earlier in the shed, when I’d touched my SOUL and Sans had freaked out, despite not telling me exactly why.

God, that felt like a week ago already.

I glanced down at my shirt and leggings; guess I’m sleeping in this tonight. Ugh. They were so dirty, though. I looked back up at the sound of Sans coming down the stairs, holding what he said he’d get as well as a t-shirt and sweat pants.

This skeleton was a godsend.

“You are a mind reader, thank you!” I said appreciatively as he laid everything beside me on the couch. Maybe I had gushed a little too enthusiastically, because his cheeks lit up in the same light blue I’d seen earlier when I’d tickled his foot. Oh gosh, he was blushing now too, wasn’t he?

My heart, even through my insane exhaustion, managed to shudder once more.

“hey no problem, gotta show you the best of monster hospitality,” He said shyly, looking away and gesturing behind him at the second floor, “bathroom’s up there, if you wanted to change. we’ll wash your clothes tomorrow, since paps is already asleep.” I nodded and he turned to leave for his room.

“Night, Sans.” I said, sleepiness once again edging its way into my voice. He stopped at the top of the stairs to wave and smile kind of lopsidedly, walking down the length of the bannister to enter his own darkened room.

I barely made it up the stairs myself to change before stumbling downstairs one final time to pass out on the couch.

I don’t usually dream, but tonight my imagination was lit up with Christmas lights, buzzing neon signs, comforting hearthfires, and soft, white, glowing pinpricks of light that made me feel the warmest out of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking I'll have another chapter Saturday, but with work all weekend it could end up being Monday. Hope to see you all come back for the next part! :D


	11. Human Things, Human Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS ALWAYS, it's only tomorrow once I go to sleep (it's perpetually Monday until I pass out from exhaustion)! Seriously though, thank you for being so amazingly patient; you guys keep my spirits up more than you know.
> 
> I have some great news, too!! I PASSED MY CLASSES AND I'M NOW ELIGIBLE TO GRADUATE! So many thanks to everyone that wished me well and gave me good luck. I really do think the positivity helped me get through it all and come out the other side. I've also applied to my first job, and it's for a social movement content writer, fiction and journalism, both of which are obviously right up my alley (because I actually DID write for my uni's paper; that much about Teagan is inspired from my actual life). I'll be sure to keep anyone that's interested posted as more news comes in.
> 
> This might honestly be my favorite chapter yet, and it's also the longest! Plot is now beginning to happen, so prepare thyself.
> 
> I recommend "Vancouver" by Kopecky for this chapter, because I love almost everything they do. Later chapters will probably see other suggestions from them.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4pFcxl-s-xw
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! Love you all. :D

The world seemed to keep giving me hints to wake up.

First it was the chill that started to pass over me after a few hours of sleep; a digital alarm clock under the tv across the room burned the numbers 3:46 into my eyes. Nope, too tired for this shit. I rolled over with a shiver, pulling my flannel over my torso, and hunkered deeper into the blanket around me. It smelled like wood shavings and mothballs, but wasn’t wholly unpleasant.

Next I was awoken up by a distant alarm. Or rather, it was the CLUNK-CLUNK-CLUNK of someone barreling down the stairs a few moments later that truly brought me out of my sleep. The steps halted in what sounded like mid-step and my eyes blearily peeked open.

“Sleep well, Teagan!” A voice whisper-screamed to me before running off again and clicking the front door shut almost soundlessly behind them. Once again blinking sleepily at the clock, it was now apparently 6 a.m. Nope, way too fucking early.

The final time I was disturbed happened three hours later when whoever had left earlier returned home. At this point I was sleeping pretty lightly, so even their sweet and earnest attempt to silently reenter the living room was enough to rouse me.

“Mornin’, Paps.” I slurred like someone much drunker. Actually, upon fully waking up and squinting into the fuzzy darkness of the room, I was very glad to find that I didn’t appear to be hungover.

“Good morning, human! Teagan!” Papyrus said in the same barely contained murmur I’d heard earlier this morning. Ah, it made sense that it was him getting an early start to the day; he was probably out training with Undyne. Sans didn’t strike me as the type to do anything before noon.

“You don’t have to talk so softly now,” I said, “But thank you for doing so earlier. I think I needed the rest.”

“PERHAPS YOU SHOULD HEAD TO BED EARLIER TONIGHT, THEN,” Papyrus said, holding up his index finger and looking knowledgeable, “EARLY TO BED, EARLY TO RISE!” I laughed a little sarcastically.

“Early has never been part of my vocabulary,” I smirked and ran my fingers through my hair. Just then, my stomach stepped in to redirect the conversation by gurgling with the strength of ten Teagans.

NEED. FOOD.

“Ugh, I’m gonna _die_ ,” I complained passionately, grabbing my angry stomach to assure it that I’d heard its protests. I turned to Papyrus to ask if I could make myself some breakfast, but he was already sprinting across the floor to kneel in front of me, staring misty-eyed at my stomach.

“PLEASE DO NOT DIE!” Papyrus wailed, grabbing my hands while his eyes darted between my perplexed face and my stomach, “WHY IS YOUR TUMMY CRYING OUT SO LOUDLY? WHAT CAN THE GREAT PAPYRUS DO TO EASE ITS PAIN?”

I was torn between absurd amusement and an intense need to quiet Papyrus’s worry. Maybe my face was contorting from the conflicting emotions, because Papyrus again sobbed and released a floodgate of tears from his eyes.

“No no no, Papyrus! It’s ok, I’m ok!” I finally interrupted, squeezing his hands tightly, “It’s a human thing. It just means I’m hungry!” I had meant for my words to assuage his fears, but apparently Papyrus still thought I was in mortal peril. He practically teleported out of the living room into the kitchen. A slamming fridge door and the roar of a gas burner later, I became aware that he was intending to heat up more spaghetti for me.

Oh god. Now _that_ might actually kill me.

I tumbled off the couch and hurried for the kitchen as the sound of a door on the landing above creaked open with a lethargy that implied Sans had also awoken and wasn’t terribly thrilled with the prospect of facing the day yet. Dealing with him could come after, but right now Papyrus needed some human education.

About time for it, honestly.

“OH YOU MUST BE STARVING! I AM A TRULY TERRIBLE HOST FOR NOT NOTICING YOUR MALNOURISHMENT.” Papyrus was still crying as he busied himself with pulling multiple more containers out of the fridge to heat up after the already overflowing pot had warmed. I calmed myself and walked over to place a hand on his shoulder. Had he not been bent over to see in the fridge, I don’t know that I’d be tall enough to do this.

“Papyrus, it’s _alright_ ,” I said with a low voice, drawing out the word to make it sound as soothing as possible. It seemed to have had a marginally positive effect, as he stopped his attempts to empty the entire fridge of tupperware, “I’m not starving, just hungry. And sometimes human bodies make weird noises, but it’s all completely normal. You have been a wonderful host and I am thankful for everything you’ve done for me. I really feel welcomed.” His face revolved around to face me and I was horrified that he had started to—somehow silently— cry even harder.

“TEAGAN,” Papyrus started, and I was terrified to think that I’d said something wrong. He didn’t leave me wondering long though, as he dropped all the spaghetti in his arms to scoop me up in an absolute bruiser of a hug, “YOU ARE SO VERY WELCOME! YOU TOO ARE AN EXCELLENT GUEST AND I’M GLAD WE’RE BECOMING SUCH FAST FRIENDS.”

“Me too, Paps,” I said softly as I returned the hug, feeling myself tear up either with emotion or internal injury. Both were equally as likely.

“wuz goin’ on…?” a small noise sounded behind me and Papyrus swiveled us around to see Sans standing in the entrance to the kitchen, eyes lidded from sleep and voice gravelly. My heart jerked a bit and I rolled my eyes at myself.

“Sorry for waking you, I was just looking for some food,” I said as Papyrus set me back on the floor. I bent backward to crack my spine, which meant I had to add “human thing” in Papyrus’s direction so he wouldn’t worry once more that he’d broken me.

“mmm hmm,” Sans muttered with a hand wave before heading into the living room to curl up under my blanket on the couch. Well then. Guess I really wouldn’t be going back to sleep. Might as well actually make some food after all.

“Would you like breakfast if I made some?” I asked the remaining skeleton, who nodded so enthusiastically I feared his head might clatter onto the linoleum floor. I glanced in the fridge, hoping to find something other than pre-prepared spaghetti and was rewarded with exactly what I usually made for breakfast at home: eggs and sausage.

“I’VE NEVER HAD THIS BEFORE.” Papyrus said aloud, glancing over what I’d pulled out with a curious but skeptical look.

“This is what I’d make for myself on the surface,” I explained, looking over the food—which, admittedly, was _slightly_ different than the human fare I was used to—and grabbing two pans from a cupboard, “You’ve really never had eggs before?”

“WHO NEEDS ‘EGGS’ WHEN I CAN MAKE SPAGHETTI?” Papyrus responded with the answer I’d assumed he would, but the sheer look of pride in his eyes always won me over, “I BELIEVE SANS BROUGHT THESE INGREDIENTS HOME YESTERDAY AFTER HE FIXED YOUR PHONE.”

Interesting. Maybe he’d been planning to make them, then? Or had I mentioned that this was literally one of maybe ten things I knew how to cook? I’m 56 percent sure I hadn’t mentioned it, though.

Oh well. Time to cook, so it could then be time to EAT.

“Can you grab me the cheese?” I asked Papyrus, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. He seemed more comfortable when he was the one in front of the stovetop, so I figured getting him involved would be a nice thought. I stood on my tip-toes to grab some salt, pepper, Italian seasoning, and red pepper flakes from the now full-to-bursting spice cabinet; he deposited the cheese next to me on the counter, looking exceedingly pleased with himself so I indulged him with a huge “thank you.”

I started the sausage after the eggs started to thicken, because I preferred less-crispy breakfast meats. Didn’t matter what it was.

“HUMAN, THAT IS THE SUGAR,” Papyrus interrupted my mindless culinary dialogue. I smirked knowingly as I added a pinch to the eggs, followed by a splash of milk and a generous handful of shredded cheese.

“It’ll all make sense when you eat it!” I teased lightly with a wink, which made Papyrus glow and continue to watch on with rapture.

Eventually everything was finished, and I found it to be meeting all my standards for a delicious morning meal. I grilled a few sausages to a more well-done char, in case anyone wanted them that way, and turned the burners off. It all smelled amazing, and that seemed to have pulled Sans off the couch once more.

“looks great, thanks for cooking,” Sans said, standing beside me as Papyrus meticulously set the table for our “grand meal.”

“Yeah, all it needs is coffee,” I couldn’t stop myself from lamenting, but immediately regretted it, “But it’s perfectly fine without.”

“be right back,” Sans said, briefly readjusting the collar of his shirt to sit more appropriately on his shoulders, before blipping away from the kitchen. He was back a few quick minutes later as I finished pre-washing the pans, with two paper cups of coffee in-hand, “for you.” He said, holding one out for me. I took a sip immediately and sighed with appreciation.

“This is perfect, thank you Sans,” I said sincerely, taking another taste before smiling widely. His face was innocent, but I could tell he knew how much this simple act meant to me, “One day I’ll have to pay you guys back for everything you’ve done for me.”

“i think this is a great start,” Sans said, leading me over to the table where Papyrus was summoning every bit of patience, fork in one hand and knife in the other, to wait for us. As soon as we sat, he dug in. One hard moment of thought later, Papyrus was screeching in delight and praising my “talent” at cooking. I was blushing as red as the ketchup Sans was now dumping all over his sausage.

Uh. Well, to each their own.

“I CAN TASTE THE SUGAR. A WONDERFUL ADDITION TO ALL THE OTHER FLAVORS!” Papyrus yelled across the table to me. I kept expecting to see bits of egg fleck from his mouth at his fervor to congratulate me on the meal, but he was perfectly polite and wiped his mouth before every statement. Meanwhile, Sans had dribbled several whole bites of food down his shirt. I shook my head disparagingly at him, my smile sardonic but amused. He returned it with a wink and continued eating.

I hadn’t felt this full in ages. Sure, Toriel cooked me all kinds of amazing monster food, but it didn’t fill up a body quite like human-style cooking. After the meal was finished and the dishes were cleaned, the three of us were sitting in the living room together in companionable silence. I stretched out my legs on the floor and flopped my head down on the couch cushion behind me to stare up at the two brothers.

There again was that thrum of contentment that seemed to come from my SOUL. And this time it didn’t have to be brought out of me by magic-laced monster liquor.

It was from being here. It was from them.

Sans reminded me that I could shower upstairs and he’d start my laundry for me. From the utter look of surprise on Papyrus’s face this seemed like a rare offer of help, so I agreed and headed toward the bathroom.

“you can leave those clothes outside the door,” Sans said quietly as I stood, “there’s some more on the counter for you.” Oh god, he was definitely blushing a bit now. I felt my cheeks flushing in kind.

Oh fuck off. What were we, twelve? Everybody showers and changes clothes.

Grow up, Teagan.

I followed his instructions, taking extra care to be modest as I deposited the clothes I’d slept in outside the door, and showered for perhaps a bit longer than I’d meant to. But hey, go about a week without one and you’d be taking a 30 minute shower too. Once I’d toweled off and changed into the comfortably, but not audaciously, baggy clothes Sans had laid out, I reentered the living room to find Sans dozing again—how does he even—and Papyrus openly glaring at him.

“Hey Paps,” I said to get his attention, “Why don’t you show me one of those Mettaton movies you were telling me about yesterday?” I thought this might be a decent way to redirect his annoyance, and it could prove useful in teaching me more about monsters and the Underground. As expected, he lit up right away and scampered off for a bookshelf full of VHS tapes.

Christ, _VHS tapes_?

I mean, I don’t really know what I should expect. The fact that monster technology was in any way similar to humanity’s was amazing in itself. Actually, on further thought, monsters only being a few steps behind humans in terms of technology was rather impressive, given their surroundings.

Oh god, was that a terribly pandering thought? Was that condescending? Was it prejudiced to say “their surroundings” like that, when the Underground was their home?

Was—SHIT—was that bigoted of me?

“you’re gonna regret letting papyrus put that on,” Sans said above me on the couch, pulling me out of my distressed inner monologue. I rolled my head back, wet hair sliding over my shoulders, to look up at him. He seemed to wake up whenever it suited him. Was he actually sleeping at all?

“I was trying to be nice,” I contradicted him quietly, “And, you know, maybe I’m trying to learn a little more about this place?” Sans momentarily relaxed his smirk, and instead replaced it with a coy grin.

“you could always just ask me if there’s something you want to know,” He said in tones that could in no way be misconstrued.

Sans was flirting with me.

“Yeah, and get some cheeky half-answer. Fuck off,” I said with a laugh to keep the levity, despite my dramatic uptick in heartbeats per second.

“oh, changing your tune from last night, then? What happened to ‘fuck _me’_?” Sans continued to prod at me, his smirk ruthless. I faced forward without a word, hand over my face to shield my blush from the world. But he knew it was there anyway. Maybe I was just doing it to maintain my own dignity as Papyrus plopped down on the floor beside me. His elation at showing me his favorite Mettaton movie was enough to pull my head back down from the clouds.

“NO TALKING DURING THE MOVIE!” Was the last warning Papyrus threw at the two of us before smashing a finger on the remote’s “play” button.

Oh.

Uh.

Well, I had assumed this movie was a comedy.

I think I was wrong.

I let out huge, incredulous snorts as a chunky, fax machine-sounding robot was put in all sorts of situations I could only deem as hilarious. It just kept happening. And I couldn’t help but laugh, even though, after my first transgression, it was obvious that Papyrus didn’t think laughter was called for.

It only got worse, with the climax of the movie involving the robot, Mettaton, having to distract a squadron of jealous “attack monsters” hell-bent on dismantling him by putting on a talent show. Except, every act was him in another strange costume. I really couldn’t tell if I was supposed to assume he was playing different characters, or, as seemed more obvious to me, it was supposed to be Mettaton in every instance, which is—OBVIOUSLY—stupidly funny. That’s just classic comedy.

But Papyrus seemed to disagree.

And he was _not_ amused with _my_ amusement.

“PERHAPS HUMANS LACK THE ABILITY TO COMPREHEND THE COMPLEXITY THAT IS METTATON XV!” Papyrus scoffed, as I finally failed to disguise my laughter and devolved into a convulsing mess of giggles.

“Must be a human thing,” I said, equal parts trying to cover my ass and convince Papyrus that he wasn’t wrong for liking the movie. We just liked it in different ways, “Do you have any movies starring other monsters?”

“mettaton’s the only monster entertainer,” Sans explained, doing a better job of hiding his glee at my outburst. Ah, so he didn’t care for Mettaton either, it seems.

But wait. The _only_ one?

“Seriously?” I asked, sobered by the fact.

“there are some small-time performers in new home, but nothing like mettaton’s fanbase.”

“ALL MONSTERS LOOK UP TO METTATON!” Papyrus said, apparently not catching on to my inflection, “HE SPEAKS FOR US ALL.” Sans made a noise to disagree with that sentiment, but even he couldn’t deny the influence the Underground’s sole entertainer must have over the populace. He looked disgruntled, so I nudged his leg with my shoulder to bring him back to me. He pulled himself out of his mood and smiled down at me briefly before glancing at the clock under the tv.

“time for my shift,” Sans said simply, sliding off the couch and stretching.

“Snowdin forest?” I asked, referring to his first of three—or four, depending on what you count—jobs. He shook his head and simply responded with “hotland.”

“HAVE A GOOD SHIFT, BROTHER!” Papyrus called cheerfully, putting the VHS away and grabbing another. Ugh, I guess we were still doing this, then.

“Have fun,” I teased, sticking out my tongue, “I’ll be here.” Sans scrutinized me carefully before shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets.

“yeah, you will,” He said with that, soft-eyed look he let slip over his face sometimes. My heart fluttered dangerously but he’d teleported away before I could say anything foolish.

Honestly, his shift was remarkably well-timed. A thought had started to coalesce in my mind after watching the Mettaton movie, and I don’t think Sans would completely agree with me pursuing it.

“Hey Papyrus,” I said again, “Are there any other newspapers in the Underground, other than the one from Snowdin?” Papyrus seemed to think hard about my question before answering.

“NO, I DON’T BELIEVE SO. IT CIRCULATES ALL OVER.”

“Ok,” I nodded, trying very hard to keep my tone even as I asked the other question I needed answered, “So do you think Mettaton reads it, then?”

“OH I WOULDN’T DOUBT IT!” Papyrus replied readily, “HE QUOTES IT SOMETIMES ON HIS TV NEWS SHOW!” Ah, broadcast. Even the Underground wasn’t safe from its corrupting clutches.

But that was a pretentious opinion for another day. My plan was solidifying in my brain.

“That’s good to know, thanks Papyrus!” My overly cheerful tone should have given my ulterior motives away, but Papyrus only seemed too happy to have helped me. To silently thank him, I sat through another Mettaton movie—this one a shamelessly self-gratifying rags-to-riches story—without so much as a snicker. Once the movie ended, I stood and pulled on my jacket, scarf, and boots.

“Can I have my backpack back? I need to go pick some stuff up from the shop,” I asked Papyrus, which wasn’t a lie, but rather a half truth. He nodded and retrieved it from his room, starting to suit up to join me, “Oh! No need to come with me. I need—UH— _womanly_ things…?”

Ok, now this was a lie—for now, but let’s not think of that at the moment—but I really couldn’t have Papyrus tagging along on this particular trip. Honestly, I don’t think he understood what “womanly things” meant (thank the maker), but he seemed to understand the implication of privacy.

“BE SAFE, TEAGAN! I SHALL AWAIT YOUR RETURN HERE.” Papyrus waved me out the door as I felt the smallest twinge of pain at the thought of deceiving him. And for skirting around Sans by taking advantage of his work schedule.

First, I kept true to what I’d told Papyrus and returned to the shop for the gloves and LIFE. Hattie engaged me in small talk for a few minutes, which was surprisingly pleasant despite my hatred with such lines of conversation. I also asked around about a few of Snowdin’s residents.

Next, I made my way to the library; I grabbed another paper on the way in, more or less out of habit. The inside reminded me a bit of Sans and Papyrus’s house: warm, sparsely decorated, and smelling of cedar. The librarian waved to me from behind the counter as if he already knew me (word of new people must spread fast). And on the far wall was a table, newsprint and crumbled paper strewn all over the top and the floor below, with three monsters sitting around it working hard.

Maybe more work went into crosswords and cartoons than I’d known.

I approached a kindly rhino-looking monster, who was busily scribbling notes down on some copy. It seemed to be a page-long article and was positively stained with red ink from top to bottom. She seemed extremely harried with her edits, but still took the time to smile at me as she made eye contact.

“Hello there!” She chirped in a charming voice, which brought a smile right out of me, “Something I can help you with?”

“Yes, I’m looking for Tia?” I phrased it as a question, even though Hattie had made very sure to describe the person I was to look for. The monster, Tia apparently, nodded and continued her smile, “Yes, well, I was hoping to help you out with an article for your paper. I think I’ve got a great story for you.”

“Oh?” She intonated, somewhere between intrigue and tiredness, “What might this story be about?” She continued, curiosity seeming to get the better of her.

“It’s about a human. One down here in the Underground,” I started, gaging her interest and, also, how much I could trust her, “This human, I’ve heard, wants to help monsters, but they’re too afraid to come forward, lest they be captured and killed by the Royal Guard.” Tia perked up immediately, and her coworkers seemed to finally notice me as well. I waved shyly as she circled up with them to discuss what I’d told her.

“This is an amazing opportunity!” Tia exclaimed, trying to keep her voice down and as the librarian shushed her, “We would love to interview this human and help introduce them to the Underground. But how can we know you’re telling the truth? How do you know them?”

“Well you see,” I said, closing my eyes briefly to rally myself, “I know all this because… I’m the human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts on this development? I'm trying to edge into the "plot" area of the story now.


	12. More Here, Less There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for all the kind words and the kudos!! I've really been picking up steam lately, and I'm finally starting to settle back into my usual style. When you've been out of practice for a while (about 3 years in my case), it can be hard to remember who you are as an author.
> 
> Not much news for you guys, but I'll go ahead and wish a Happy Holidays to anyone that participates! As for me, I usually can't stand the holidays; but this year has been a lot better, now that I'm a bartender and finally got away from retail. Best holiday wishes to everyone and the most supportive of vibes to anyone that has a hard go of it around this time of year.
> 
> This chapter is a little more serious than the others, so I recommend "Devil's Backbone" by The Civil Wars to set the tone.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4KC51M82Xc
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Love you much.

The monsters’ reactions were not what I had expected and I was thrown a bit off-guard.

Movies had prepared me to believe silence always follows revelation. When a character announces something shocking to another person, there’s supposed to be this weighty, pronounced silence while the characters reevaluate their standing in the world. Kind of like in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy when Ford Prefect tells Arthur that he’s from another planet and he just kinds of flounders for a few seconds.

Maybe “floundering” was just Arthur Dent’s constant state of being, though.

Ok, bad example.

Regardless, I don’t even have time to think of this reference before the newspaper monsters are gasping and vibrating excitedly. Well at least they weren’t running. Or attacking me...

Fuck. That possibility hadn’t really even registered with me before now. I was risking a lot.

At least it all seemed to be working out. For now.

At some point I’d have to face the wrath of Papyrus and Sans. Sans most especially.

RIGHT—I’m supposed to be paying attention. I took a moment to mentally readjust myself, not without noticing how flip-flopped this situation was playing out from what I’d imagined. I once again pick up my smile, doing my damnedest to keep everything natural, as Tia and her partners led me over to the seat farthest from the curious gaze of the librarian.

“I’ve never seen a human before,” Tia whispers almost hoarsely, “It’s been ages since the last one fell.”

“Yeah, I was kind of wondering just how long it’s been,” I interjected, trying to take a little heat off of myself for a few moments. Their gazes weren’t unkind, but I’ve never handled scrutiny well. I was used to people staring at me, but not with actually _seeing_ me.

There was a fine difference.

“We can talk about all that later,” One of the other monsters said, tapping a pencil against her chin absentmindedly before stowing it away in her hair bun.

“Yes, you’re our focus right now,” The third member of the paper added, staring at me intently with his one gigantic eye. Maybe he was related to the Loox I’d met back in the Ruins.

“I’m happy to answer any of your questions,” I said, trying to sound as accommodating as possible, “Obviously. Since I’m here telling you all this.”

Smooth, Teagan.

“There’s just one thing,” Tia said, pulling back slightly and looking at me somehow even more critically, “We’ve never seen a human. I don’t think we’d even really know one on sight.” The other two seemed uncomfortable but agreed.

No shit. They hadn’t recognized me for anything odd at all before I’d spoken up. But I chose not to say this, because it sounded needlessly mean-spirited.

“What can I do to prove it?”

“Well,” The Loox said, his mouth suddenly looking toothier than I’d like, “We’d have to see your SOUL. That would prove it for sure.”

I was thinking they’d suggest that, but forgive me for trying to worm my way out of that right away.

“That’s probably not a great idea,” I said, thinking quickly for an excuse as I squirmed on the stool. Then, I remembered what had happened when I’d even just _touched_ my SOUL back in the toolshed yesterday. Yeah, this definitely couldn’t happen, “I think our interview would get interrupted if you got anywhere near my SOUL.”

I was being purposefully vague, trying to protect Sans (and Papyrus) from any accusations the other monsters might have against a monster being so tuned-in with me, a human. This, of course, was all founded on several levels of assumptions.

I was fumbling in the dark, but still seemed to push the right button despite that; the other monsters relaxed a bit, looking between each other.

“Regardless, we have our journalistic integrity to consider,” Tia said, all business now. I recognized the tone: she was making a power play, thinking I’d acquiesce when pressed.

Ok, I could play this game. I knew all the steps.

“I’d hate to have you think I’m lying. The whole reason I’m doing this is to gain the Underground’s confidence,” I said quietly. This was a weird line to tread, because it was more or less the truth, “What if I showed you my SOUL _after_ the interview?” Since the damage will be done at that point, my brain added. Tia seemed to consider the offer, like it hadn’t occurred to her until I’d mentioned it.

“Deal!” The pencil-tapping monster said before she consulted with the others, and maybe looking a little embarrassed by her own enthusiasm.

“We can do it right now, if you’re comfortable with that,” Tia said, to which I nodded. The other two set about to gather recording materials and pull over some foldable padded panels, effectively cutting us off from the rest of the library and anyone that might interrupt.

Or overhear.

Oh fuck. I was really doing this.

Sans was never going to forgive me.

I let my mind spin worry upon worry as the monsters set everything up and eventually settled across from me. Tia was composed amazingly well on her stool, a clipboard and pen balanced easily on her crossed knee. The other two sat behind her, manning a small recorder and watching closely. Everything pointed to Tia being the editor and major reporter for the paper, and thusly the one I needed to impress.

The one I needed on my side.

“So, you came from the surface?” Tia started easily. I tried to remain calm, keeping my voice in check, but every muscle in my body was tightening.

“Yeah, I lived in a city at the base of this mountain,” I replied, “I fell down here about a week ago.”

“So you haven’t been here very long. But you still only just came to Snowdin. Where were you before you found your way here?” Tia asked, and I could tell this was more of a loaded question than she was letting on. She made a few notes on her paper.

“I fell into the Ruins,” I replied honestly, but still chose to leave out the part about staying with Toriel. I felt like I should keep this private, as only Sans seemed to know about her, “Everyone there was very nice. A ghost named Napstablook helped me get through all the puzzles.” Tia shared a look with the other monsters at my namedrop.

“Did the monsters in the Ruins not recognize you as a human?” Tia continued, to which I shook my head.

“Actually, everyone there knew what I was,” I said, smiling now, “I remember thinking that _I_ was the odd one out, and how amazing it was that no one treated me any differently despite that.”

All three of my interviewers were quiet, letting me continue if I wanted to give a longer quote. I considered my feelings for a moment.

“It’s funny. I don’t remember everything about my life from the surface—something about how magic affects my memories—but I do know that I fit in better down here than I did up there,” I said candidly.

“Do you remember anything from your human life?” Tia asks me, and the phrasing of the question throws me a bit. My human life? Was it really so separate, now that I’m in the Underground?

And if so, did I really care that much?

“More and more comes back to me every day,” I said, shrugging, “It’s mostly inconsequential things, like pop culture references and song lyrics. You know, the sorts of things that were ingrained in my personality anyway.”

Tia maintains her silence, giving me a sharp eye. Without even realizing it, she gets me to add more to my statement.

“I don’t really know how I got here, but I’m starting to realize I fell on purpose,” The words come out of my mouth unbidden and catch me by surprise. I regroup for a second before adding, “What I do know is that I’m looking for something down here, something I lost. I’m relying on people so much to help me, but I’m still constantly amazed by how forthcoming everyone is.”

“What is it that you’re looking for?” Tia asked softly. Kindly.

“I don’t know. I really wish I did, because it kind of tears me apart not to know.” I laughed, “But if I can, I’ll figure it out.”

“Earlier you said the human, you, was interested in helping monsters, but that you were afraid of being killed,” Tia shifts the conversation as her two partners exchange glances, “However, you must know that helping us escape the Underground calls for your death regardless.” My throat clenched and I started to sweat despite already knowing this.

“I’m aware,” I started, closing my eyes to give myself a chance to avoid their stares for a moment, “And if it comes to that, I’m more than willing to sacrifice whatever it is that monsters need. What my ancestors did to monsters is beyond any ethics or reason, and I’ll take the fall to fix that mistake if I have to.”

The monsters looked at me with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion, and it made me feel like a kid being caught in a lie about breaking a window. While this statement wasn’t untrue, I wasn’t anywhere near as brave as I was letting on.

“But if I’m being honest,” I added shyly, “I’d really rather not die prematurely.” That got the slightest of chuckles. As always, monsters seemed to respond to sincerity.

“So you’re hoping we might find another way?”

“If it’s possible, I’d obviously prefer that.” I said, laughing and flushing slightly. I diverted my eyes and scratched my wrist. I was really feeling the need to pace right about now.

“You were brave to come forward,” Tia said, drawing my eyes back to her. She’d stopped taking notes, “What do you hope will come of it?”

“Really the best I can hope for is not getting destroyed on sight,” I said, keeping my tone light despite the pull of gravity I felt in my gut, “If I can get the guards and the king to meet me on my terms so we can talk civilly, then that’s what I want to happen.”

“I hope we can help you, then,” Said Tia, apparently signaling the end of the interview as her partners started to put away their setup, “Now, I believe we need to check the validity of your story.”

Ah yes, so they wouldn’t be forgetting that detail. Damn.

“I don’t mind, but be prepared for my friend to suddenly appear,” I said, standing from the short stool and balling my fists nervously in the pockets of my jacket. Tia nodded and shot me an apologetic look before I felt a sharp jab in my chest. Well that was certainly more noticeable than when Toriel had done it.

I’d dare say that Tia pulling on my SOUL might have actually hurt. It came in four quick flashes, like a strobe light, but lasted no longer than a second. And after the moment had passed, I once again found my SOUL, that tiny speck of color and power, hanging in the air before me. It didn’t seem at all fazed by the harshness of what had just happened, except that it perhaps appeared to be bobbing up and down instead of idly floating.

“Don’t worry, intent is everything,” Tia said, awe-struck only momentarily before regaining her soft composure, “I’m not going to attack you, but in order to pull out your SOUL I had to make it think I want to hurt you.”

Unfortunately, this was all very poorly timed. Much like I thought might happen, Sans suddenly teleported in front of me and, upon hearing only those last two words and seeing my SOUL detached from my body, he somehow reacted even worse than I’d expected. And I’d prepared for his fearsome angry ranting.

I had _not_ prepared for Sans lighting up with an invisible but extremely dense field of magic, which crackled from his body in huge, furious swells. This wasn’t a lecture. This was about to be a crime scene.

“Sans, I’m ok! Calm down,” I said, moving to grab his shoulder. My hand managed to pass through the aura of magic surrounding him, but it was like slogging through thick mud; it was as though my hand suddenly weighed fifty pounds heavier. Eventually I did succeed in making contact, but it didn’t have quite the effect I was hoping for—in that nothing happened.

“put it back,” Sans said to Tia, who looked properly terrified, the poor thing, “ _now_.”

I felt my SOUL slamming back inside me with only the tiniest glance from Tia. I grunted a little from the force and felt a small part of me flicker, which didn’t escape Sans’s notice.

“you hurt her,” Sans said, his eyes glinting even more dangerously as his pupil shifted from cyan to yellow and back.

“It was an accident, she didn’t mean it. Sans, come on,” I pleaded, trying to get him to at least focus on me. I could handle his vitriol, but I didn’t know that she’d survive it, “You’re _scaring_ her.” I said severely, moving to stand directly before him. Sans continued to glare at me, but I matched his look. After several hour-long seconds, Sans dropped the field of magic around him and I took the opportunity to brace him with both of my hands.

“what happened?” Sans asked, like I figured he might. Like he had before.

Unfortunately this was the part I was dreading the most.

“She had to check my SOUL because— _shit_ —because,” I took a breath, “Because I told her that I’m a human.”

Now here was the stunned silence the movies told me about.

Sans was looking at me for what felt like an eternity, his face changing between confusion and rage and exasperation and misery before it finally settled on what could best be described as disgruntled understanding.

“i think you need to fill me in,” Sans said, audibly sighing but still making an attempt to release the tension in his bones, “at _home_.” I nodded in agreement and could barely wave goodbye to Tia and the other monsters, my face contrite, before Sans was holding on to me and teleporting us away. I hoped they could forgive me.

But all thoughts of what just happened were blasted from my mind as I once again entered the black hole between where I had been and where I was going. The world felt like it shifted below me, tugging on my edges and willing them to fray, to dissolve in the nothingness all around me.

The only real thing was Sans, clutching at my waist almost too tightly with skeletal fingers. In this place, he was my entire world.

There wasn’t anything else.

Until there suddenly was a world again. We touched down on the landing and I willed my eyes to focus on the framed image of a bone on the wall beside me, to ground myself in something static and unmoving.

But then my head was lolling forward to settle against Sans’s in a quasi-headbutt, my pupils looking down into the dark recesses of his eyesockets. It was now that I started to come around.

I was feeling more here, and less there.

“not as bad when you’re holding on properly,” Sans said, releasing his grip and pulling away a single moment before I felt fully better. I’d go ahead and consider that my punishment, then.

“Yeah,” I said dumbly, my mouth trying to remember how exactly it’s supposed to form words. Sans silently handed me a stack of clothes and bedsheets while carrying a pillow under his own arm. He turned to walk down the hall toward his room and stopped only to tug on a string hanging from the ceiling. I hadn’t noticed before, but the house had an attic.

“you can tell me all about your little adventure while we clean up your room,” Sans said, lowering the accordion stairs and climbing into the attic. I followed behind obediently, still trying to get a grip.

The attic room was small, and only looked to take up about as much room as a split level. It was dark and musty, but also smelled quite like the blanket I’d used last night, so I found that I didn’t mind much. Sans indicated a shabby bedframe to me, and I set about dusting off the mattress and making the bed. Meanwhile, Sans tugged open a stubborn door that led to a balcony; I’d seen it from the outside of the house, but since it didn’t have any furniture on it I had assumed it didn’t get used. Now I knew why.

“you can start talking any time now,” Sans said, leaving the door open to air out the unused room. I huffed a little, feeling just a bit put-upon, but tried to see things from his perspective.

And his perspective surely saw me as a huge idiot right now.

“I let Tia check my SOUL because I needed to prove I’m a human,” I started, knowing he’d figured out that much but not wanting to leave anything to confusion, “I told them I’m a human so they’d interview me for the newspaper.” Sans was quiet, regarding me from across the room with his hands squarely back in his hoodie pockets.

“that doesn’t sound like you.”

“Sans, you know I can’t keep avoiding Undyne,” I said, stepping over that odd statement and continuing to make my point, “Christ, you know it’s killing Papyrus to not tell her about me.”

“for the last time, i told you that you can trust him!” Sans decided to pick up on what he’d inferred was an insult. I vehemently shook my head.

“Of course I trust him! It’s not about trust,” I said bluntly, keeping my tone even to avoid any hurt, “It’s about doing what’s right. I can’t have your brother lying on my behalf.”

“not mentioning you isn’t a lie,” Said Sans, even though we both obviously knew a lie of omission was still a lie.

“Honestly, how long do you think I’d make it before she found me?” I asked sincerely, standing from the bed and walking over to him, “And what would she do when she finally caught me?”

He didn’t have to answer out loud, because we both knew that Undyne would kill me without hesitation. There wouldn’t be any discussion or any debate. She’d strike me down as soon as she saw me. But even then, I wouldn’t really be able to blame her for it. I was the enemy here.

Unless I could prove myself otherwise.

But that didn’t help me at all right now. Right now I had to worry. Right now I had to assume Undyne would eventually learn I was here and track me down.

“I can’t live in fear like that, wondering when the ax is going to drop,” I said bluntly, revealing the baser, most selfish reason I had for doing what I’d done, “At least this way, I get to control how things play out.”

Sans watched my face, his eyes glinting again, but this time with something other than anger. And then he was against me, hugging me around my middle so tightly that I worried I was slipping away right before him. I haphazardly returned it, fearing that I had truly upset him with what I’d said.

“I’m sorry,” I said because I didn’t know what else to say. When Sans didn’t respond, I felt my SOUL quake with apprehension and gloom. Finally he answered me, faint and unsure.

“i just don’t want to lose you.”

Normally I’d be rather indignant at this line of thinking, because I resented the idea of ever belonging to someone in the sense that they could then “lose” me. But now, I felt the same sentiment crash through my own thoughts, sending any other feelings sprawling to the wayside.

I was suddenly terrified at the prospect of being taken away.

I didn’t know what to say, because now I wasn’t just comforting Sans, I was also trying to reassure myself that what I’d done was actually the right course of action. Words didn’t usually fail me, but now I’d found myself wholly incapable of realizing a single thing to say to make everything ok. All I could do was be honest.

“Sans, it’s alright; I won’t let them take me. I’m not going anywhere,” I said, squeezing him tighter as I felt emotion well up inside me, “I’m here. I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe check back for another chapter Saturday. It's Christmas Eve and I'll be at my parents' place, but I have it off from work and will probably get the chance to write more. :D


	13. The Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I don't know if anyone actually expected me to come back to this story; not super sure I ever did either
> 
> I'll start with an apology to any of my previous readers: It was super awful of me to leave on the cliffhanger I did and disappear for nearly 2 years. Not gonna make excuses, as I have a habit of leaving stories unfinished; but this story was always different and I had fully intended to complete it. But now I've got my life way more in order--working a full-time job with benefits, found a place to settle down in for at least a few years, got a good support network and my anxiety is totally manageable--and it's easier to tie up the loose ends of these older fics.
> 
> I'm fully committed to finishing this story now (mostly because I've got another Undertale fic in the works and this one deserves to be completed first), but we've still got a little while before the conclusion. I'm thinking it'll take at least 3 more chapters, especially given that my style has changed and I gear more toward 5,000+ word chapters now, but that could change.
> 
> To any new readers: Hello! Really hope you enjoy your stay.  
> And to any of my old readers that came back: Hello again, and thanks for giving me a 2nd chance! I love you guys a ton. <3
> 
> AAAAAAALSO, IMPORTANT. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT, WHICH IS WHY THE RATING WENT UP TO "E."  
> (My first smut too, so I hope I did it well.)
> 
> I'm actually asexual, so I did my best to research and keep the sex both meaningful as well as true-to-life. It's not that I'm sex-repulsed--I actually really enjoy reading smut--but I definitely have a different perspective on what sex is like compared to a non-asexual person. I'd REALLY REALLY appreciate feedback, the more specific the better. I want to know what worked and what didn't. I appreciate it! <3  
> THANK YOOOOUUUU! :D

**The Girl Abides**

_Chapter_ _13- The Moment_

_“[Daydream in Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhB6Lb7_kN8)” by I, Monster_

 

Sans really wanted to be angry. He really, really wanted to.

He wanted to rage and scream and show Teagan how reckless she was being. How little she realized just what she’d done. How she had absolutely no idea just how upsetting this whole thing was, how impulsive she’d been. He wanted to shake her shoulders and look pleadingly into her eyes so she’d know his dread and understand his despair.

And how terrified he now was for her. That was the only truly important thing.

In his SOUL, Sans knew this feeling: the sensation of imminent loss. He was acutely aware of it. Only his journal knew the exact number of times he’s faced it, but his SOUL was familiar with it all the same.

The only thing new about this time was Teagan.

And this time he knew everything was about to change.

Confirmation came in the form of Burgerpants knocking on their door the same day that the article on Teagan was published. Thankful for small miracles, in this case Mettaton being sure to read the paper before Undyne, Sans had let in the surly cat monster, who did little more than quiver pathetically and ask Teagan whether she’d appear on Mettaton’s show. She agreed, this apparently having been her end goal of the whole ordeal; Burgerpants gave the time—tomorrow morning—and said someone would be by to escort her; and then he’d disappeared out the door with no more than mumbled complaints on his boss treating him like some common servant.

Sans couldn’t even find enough humor in himself to bite back about how the cat was _literally_ a server and serving was _literally_ his entire job, so he instead let Burgerpants take the long way back to Hotland, wringing his paper hat in his shivering paws as he trudged through the snow toward Waterfall.

Everything was empty numbness now: _imminent loss_.

Surefire catastrophe.

Somewhere in the background of his mind Sans was aware of Tea filling Papyrus in—who also was worried but immediately understanding. It was more than Sans could say of his own reaction, and he was ashamed.

And, also, Papyrus admitted he was relieved he didn’t need to keep Teagan a secret from his best friend much longer. She gave him a lingering hug, thanking him for his unwavering loyalty and protection— _how very much it had meant to her_. As though she were already speaking in past-tense. She had tears forming in the corners of her eyes, crinkled in abject fear, but they didn’t fall.

At some point that evening Papyrus had suggested a movie, which, some unknowable amount of time later, they’d finished and then chased with another film.

None of them were really watching it.

No one was talking.

Dinner was warmed-up leftovers that none of them really ate.

Plates were half-heartedly left in the sink—hopefully to be washed another day.

Sans put Papyrus to bed with a short, uncharacteristically uninterrupted rendition of Fluffy Bunny—not even participating in the titular peek-a-boo.

The only lights in the room as Sans left were his brother’s shuddering eyelights as he sat up, awake. Tea was outside the door and gave a quick flick of her wrist to say goodnight before ascending the accordion stairs to the attic. Sans regretted not following her, what with her having left the stairs not-so-subtly extended, and blipped lazily right into his own bed.

Sans rolled onto his back to stare into the ceiling.

Somewhere in the room beside his, Papyrus finally fell into a fitful sleep.

Tegan settled onto her bed after changing into her pajamas.

The house creaked despite the Underground’s nonexistent airflow.

Sans tried to pick out patterns in the ceiling tiles’ flaws. He knew them all already: he always did the same thing the morning after a reset. They never change.

Teagan tossed herself around, unable to get comfortable, and her old bedframe complained.

Snow fell peacefully outside, casting delicate shadows onto the thick, crusty carpeting of Sans’s room.

Teagan sighed loudly, which was still the loudest any of them had been in hours.

Sans’s fingers scratched idly at the center of his ribcage, hoping to relieve some of the tension he was holding. It didn’t work, but it’s not like he was really expecting it to.

And then his phone pinged from inside the pocket of his hoodie.

 

**brew-Tea-ful (9:42 P.M.):** yo is this the part where I admit I’m scared shitless and you subsequently reassure me it’ll be ok

 

Sans chuckled. If she’d gone straight to her patented Slang and No Punctuation text language, she was feeling put-out but not terrified. She was coming down a little. That was good.

 

**You (9:42 P.M.):** it’s all good but i locked the door just in case

**You (9:43 P.M.):** not that itd stop undyne

 

More sounds of shifting from the attic. Sans smiled at the mental image of her flipping onto her stomach, grinning sleepily down at the blueish glow of her cellphone.

Smiling at his attempt to make her laugh. Smiling at the thought of him.

 

**brew-Tea-ful (9:44 P.M.):** Shitlord. You’re lucky you’re cute.

 

This was familiar. Many a night on the surface, before he’d start spending those nights in her apartment, Sans would stay awake for hours flirting with Teagan over text. He’d try to keep things lowkey but she would inevitably, without fail, push at him harder and more pointedly until things got…

Well, suffice it to say he’d usually end up meeting up with her.

 

**You (9:45 P.M.):** only lucky cause you think so

 

Times were different now. There wouldn’t be any of that arbitrary hard-to-get routine this time. Gone is the Sans that waits.

He didn’t get an answer for a hot minute, which had his grin turning cheeky. It was actually pretty entertaining teasing her like this, and he could see why she’d been so keen on it during the resets.

 

**brew-Tea-ful (9:47 P.M.):** Very smooth. Bet you’re proud of that one.

 

She was being bashful and it was cute, but also… different. This situation was familiar but the dynamics were changing, and Sans felt his excitement ramping up: thrilled at the chance to explore this new side of Teagan. And, of course, to dish out a little of what he’d usually be receiving.

 

**You (9:47 P.M):** dunno, id have to see your reaction to know how good im doing

 

More silence from his phone and, also, from the attic floorboards above him. Sans might have started to sweat it a little—or wonder if she’d fallen asleep, which had definitely happened before—if not for the itch coming from his SOUL.

She was feeling it too.

 

**brew-Tea-ful (9:50 P.M.):** _sent a photo_

It took a second—fucking Undernet download speeds—but then it came through.

She was bathed in the dilute silver-blues of moon-lit darkness coming in through the sliding glass door of the attic and smiling shyly, which he could tell because it was just on one side of her mouth. The green of her hair was fading, which Sans had actually never seen before during his previous week-long trysts with her. And he was only really able to notice it now because of the closeness of the photo. Her natural hair color seemed to be extremely fair, blending in with her ghostly pale skin.

And her eyes.

Sans had always admired Teagan’s eyes. Often times before he had delighted in making her blush from gushing about how beautiful he thought they were. She’d brush off the compliment with an offhanded dismissal of how common brown eyes were, only making it too easy for him to follow up that they couldn’t be anything less than rare if they were a part of her.

Teagan stood out but no one, other than him, really seemed to _see_ her, and Sans always wondered if that was something inherent or something by design.

It took Sans a while to refocus, eyelights going soft as he went over the photo again, but he finally replied back. The room above him was silent with anticipation.

 

**You (9:53 P.M.):** always forget how soft humans are

 

Sans strained to listen and heard the blip of her text notification go off a moment later, the sound traveling down the ductwork and out through the air vent in his room. Her bedframe squeaked again and her response followed.

 

**brew-Tea-ful (9:54 P.M.):** Do you mind that I’m soft?

 

Oh she was making this way too easy, but Sans was ecstatic. Pulse quickening despite his lack of the requisite organs, he typed out an immediate reply. He left the screen of his phone on, wanting to see her text the second it came through. Distantly, through the same vent, he heard her groan in indecision.

His phone lit up a moment later.

 

**You (9:54 P.M.):** not if you dont mind that im hard

**brew-Tea-ful (9:55 P.M.):** get up here

 

He didn’t need any more prompting than that and was teleporting to the spot ten feet directly above his head just as soon as he’d read the text. Teagan started a little, turning her head to him beside her bed where he’d rematerialized—maybe she’d expected him to take the stairs, but why waste the time?

She was still laying on her stomach, her phone held in slightly trembling hands propped against her pillow. She’d taken down her hair, which was wild and curly after being up in a bun all day. And, as she was barely under the sheets, Sans could see she was wearing very little: just the shirt he’d loaned her, tied up with a knot so it would fit better, and some cute little orange panties. They were the same ones he’d washed the other day with her other clothes, so she must only have the single pair; which he supposed made sense— _but maybe he should be paying attention to Teagan right now._

Sans shuffled a little as she relaxed, suddenly nervous. Did she really want this? Want him? Maybe she’d only been teasing him, or she’d realized the mistake upon actually seeing him. Maybe she was thinking she’d regret it.

Teagan shifted upright so she was resting on her knees: sinking into the mattress so she came to eyelevel with him. Sans could feel the quickened breaths slipping past her lips—slightly apart to show the edges of her teeth. She’d often do that when she was curious about something and really focusing. Sans could remember all the times he’d seen her make this exact face when watching documentaries in her tiny surface apartment.

There were so many things he knew about her and wanted to confess he knew.

Teagan raised her hands up to grasp either side of his hood. He could feel her shivering now and again wondered if she was afraid. If she was scared of what she’d asked, or if she was searching for a way to retreat. To take it back.

Even as she pulled him down on the bed—down on top of her as she laid her head back on the pillow—Sans worried the slowness of her actions were her way of trying to back down. He couldn’t remember her being shy before: by the time she’d invite him over, she’d been ready to practically pin him down. Sans didn’t find that was the missing component here exactly, but…

But, he had, _truly_ , missed seeing her this way: face close to his, eyes half-lidded but shining in the darkness, hair splayed out behind her.

And there were so many other things he missed too, so many things he desperately wanted to experience again now. For real, this time.

He was desperate to reunite with her.

_Please. I need you._

Maybe her SOUL was screaming too, having his so near. Maybe it was the impression they’d left on each other that was heightening their apprehension.

_Please. Don’t deny me. Please accept me._

Her hands had moved from his hood to his shirt, clenched so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. Like how she’d clung to him when she’d piggybacked through the void.

_Please. Please. Please don’t deny me—_

She tugged harshly down on his shirt, simultaneously pushing herself upwards enough to crash into him. Her eyes were squeezed shut, like someone had turned on a bright light and blinded her. She made no further move, and Sans realized it was because she didn’t know what to do now. This first kiss, breaking the ice, was as far as she’d go until he responded.

That was ok, because he did. And he was only too happy to lead.

So he moved his hands—one to the curve of her waist and the other knotted into her hair—and did just that.

 

* * *

 

 

_Holy shit holy shit holy shit. Ok, we’re doing this._

Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever taken so long to kiss someone before. Usually by the time I was deciding I wanted to, I was on the person in a moment. I was fairly sure I’d worried Sans into full non-commitment at that point, so I’d just gone for it.

But now.

Now he was taking full control of the situation and it was so incredibly thrilling to have him grab me and move things forward. Everything had been hazy and sluggish until the moment his skeletal hands tugged insistently at my hair and gripped the flesh of my hip, but now it was like being hit with a jolt of electricity. Now my senses were awake and so, _so_ needy. Every synapse in my brain was firing faster than I should be able to keep up with.

His kisses, totally alien in texture, were coming so fast and so strong that I had to hold the back of his skull to anchor myself. Even then, the hunger and the _need_ in them was completely overwhelming and it was all I could do keep up.

I wasn’t typically one to be in my head in a situation like this, but I couldn’t remember ever being with someone as disarming as Sans. Even still, once I relaxed into the sensation, I found myself moving almost by muscle memory.

If his pleased sigh could be believed, it felt good when I ran my fingers down the exposed vertebrae of his neck.

I found that his shoulder blades were a perfect way to grab him to pull him closer, and he responded immediately.

And when I moved my hips to grind against him, the blown-out look in his eyelights was so incredibly human that there was no denying how it made him feel.

Which of course says nothing of how he felt against _me_ , but that barely needed said—what with the _positively obscene_ noises I hadn’t even noticed I was making.

Fuck, and he’d barely even touched me yet.

“Either we’re both very good at this, or…” I stupidly said out loud in between fiery kisses, but I couldn’t finish the thought. The part of my brain responsible for speech quickly shut down as he grinned smugly at me, slipping a hand around the small of my back to pull me back to him and nipping playfully at my bottom lip.

_Or we’ve done this before._

That was an interesting thought, but I really just couldn’t be fucking bothered at the moment. The only thing I wanted right now was Sans.

And I wanted as much as he’d let me have.

Reading my mind, Sans distractedly used his magic to retract the attic stairs. With the only source of light cut off, the room was suddenly much darker. As my eyes adjusted to the moonlight filtering in, I was struck with a huge wave of déjà vu.

Sans’s face, shining in that diffuse sort of glow, was so familiar that my SOUL lurched forward of its own accord. Had he noticed? It looked like he had, even though it hadn’t actually left my chest.

But he stopped only a moment before I was pulling him back to me, intentionally dragging him across my body because I wanted to feel good.

I wanted him to feel good.

My misbehaving SOUL could be addressed later. Right now was for this. Right now was for action and feeling.

I reached a hand to tentatively graze his ribs, more to find a purchase than anything else, but the groan he made, vibrating against my lips, had me smirking.

He liked that, I didn’t even need to ask.

I pushed at his hoodie, which he was shaking off without a moment’s hesitation. No sooner had it come off than I was again laying feather-light touches on his bones. It was the most sensitive area I’d found on him yet, and I wanted to tease a little before really going for it.

Although, with the noises he was making, whining and needy and breathless, I wasn’t sure he’d let me take my time for much longer.

Apparently he was thinking the same and, just as I grasped him more firmly, he moved from my lips to bite at my neck.

“Sans!”

Couldn’t help it.

Flushing in embarrassment, I could feel him smiling even as he sucked on the delicate flesh where my neck met my shoulder. Cheeky little shit. Not fair. That was supposed to be _my_ powerplay.

Relinquishing control was exhilarating, but I wasn’t a passive partner.

I wanted him to make the same noise.

Trying to think of how to get him back—which was very, very hard with him targeting one of the most receptive parts of my body—I moved my legs so they were locking his in place, ankles pinning down his knees.

Then, while he was distracted with licking the entire length of my neck, I reached down to hook my fingers into the holes of his pelvic bone. Well, as well as I was able to through the fabric of his basketball shorts.

Sans’s reaction was instantaneous: he was off my neck and pulling back with a sharp groan, eyelights blown wide and completely out of focus. The blue glow in his mouth, where he’d been pooling his magic to form that amazing tongue, disappeared and instantly reappeared just below the band of his shorts.

Anatomy knowledge coming in useful.

Although, that was kind of the extent of its utility here. Whatever was taking shape under Sans’s shorts now was something I was 100 percent sure didn’t come standard on anatomical model skeletons, but… only 60 percent sure I’d never seen or experienced before.

With the frenzied humming of my SOUL, I was finding it harder and harder to believe this was all just lucky guesses on my part and that I hadn’t actually been here before.

Sans didn’t let me dwell, however. The grin he turned on me was so salacious— _so starved_ —it was all I could do to remain a whole, intact Teagan.

“shirt. off.”

Fuck. Sir, yes sir.

I was ripping the shirt Sans had given me off over my head so fast one might think it had personally offended me. It was thrown somewhere far away on the other side of the room and immediately forgotten as Sans brought his head down and his tongue materialized once more to slide across my right nipple.

I don’t think the noise I made was human.

Maybe not even monster.

It was just primal.

The feeling of magic running across me, crackling like pop rocks but also pleasantly numbing, was probably the most overstimulating sensation I’d ever felt. When he moved his hand from the back of my head to instead roll the nub of my left breast between his smooth fingerbones, I was panting from the effort of not coming completely undone right there.

“it’s ok,” he had the fucking audacity to coo at me, eyelights full of mirth as they flicked up into my flushed face, “you don’t have to hold back. won’t be your only one tonight.”

STUPID SEXY SKELETON.

My core was twitching uncontrollably. I needed him to touch me, and I needed it now.

Fuck pride, I didn’t mind begging.

“Sans please. Please please please.”

All I heard was him chuckling lowly because I’d closed my eyes and dropped my head back against the headboard, not having the energy to keep upright.

And then I felt him: hand cool against the waves of heat rolling off of my sex.

Goddamn it, how had I not already kicked off my panties by this point.

“don’t worry, Tea. just takes a second,” Sans said, obviously noticing my frustration. And he was right: it took him basically no time at all to slip them off and toss them away like I had my shirt.

I was completely bare now and that made it all the more apparent how wet I was. I heard Sans mutter some expletive or another as he saw too, and his hand was pressed up against me once more before I even had to ask.

Tentatively, I felt him slide a fingerbone in without a single bit of resistance. With a moan, I blindly reached down to grab at his shirt and pull him back to me.

As his fingers worked, because it suddenly wasn’t just the one now, I struggled to tug his shirt off—bemoaning the loss of sensation as his fingers briefly had to leave me so he could get it all the way off.

My hands found his ribcage again, stroking and gripping him as hard as I could as I felt tension building in the lowest part of my abdomen. We were both panting and sweating from the effort: Sans to keep up the pace and me from chasing that high.

Needing that extra little push, needing him to make those lewd noises again in his throat, I copied him from earlier and bent my head down to suck the vertebrae of his neck.

Fuck. Yes, there it was.

Sans growled and nearly lost his rhythm, which was exactly what I wanted. Hearing him—seeing him—come undone with me was what I needed.

My orgasm came like a gun firing: explosive and immediate and echoing. I must have coated Sans’s entire hand and felt a second of shame before he was kissing me with the same intensity as before. The same demand.

And, despite having just reached climax, I found myself feeling that same need too.

No stopping.

All the way.

I didn’t need a minute, I wanted to keep going. I wanted to keep exploring Sans and his body. I wanted all of him, if he’d give it.

That seemed to be a non-issue though, as Sans responded so enthusiastically as I began to nudge down his shorts that I was surprised he’d been able to wait this long.

“I like the enthusiasm,” I said, voice still husky from reaching my peak. Having gotten the first instances of awkwardness out of the way and feeling a little less hyperstimulated now, I was going to do everything I could to give him back a little of what he’d done to me. Sans’s eyelights shrunk in focus as his brain whirred; after a second he seemed to give up and a blush dusted his cheeks.

“don’t know what to say to that, Tea.” I giggled and closed the distance between us, stopping just shy of kissing him.

“You don’t gotta say anything, Sans. You just gotta get those shorts off and come here.” Again Sans growled, this time sounding positively feral as he rid himself of his remaining clothes and pinning me to the mattress.

“anything else smart to say?”

Ugh, there were so many things I wanted to say to sound sexy and alluring and seductive. But—

“Please just fuck me now.”

That would have to do.

The glow I’d seen peeking out from under his waistband was brighter now and pulsing. I felt my own body responding in kind, especially as Sans lined himself up with my entrance and dared to tease me slowly—setting himself there but going no further.

Growing more impatient by the second, quickly losing control of my longing, I moaned and clumsily dragged his face to mine, kissing him and sticking my tongue between his teeth as the fire inside me grew steadily into an inferno.

Sans was shorter than me, so this position was probably incredibly uncomfortable. It was hard for me to tell because comfort wasn’t even on my top twenty list of concerns at the moment. But still, I scooted back to lean against the headboard and pulled my legs up to lock Sans in.

Better. Definitely better.

And, the last problem dealt with, Sans finally pushed all the way inside my soaking wet core. We both took a moment—me to gasp as my brain immediately forced a reboot and him to shudder all the way down his body and back up again—before he set his pace.

No time for slowness now.

No reason for a gradual, measured rhythm.

It was just an instant, insistent, urgent cadence. His thrusts were even at first, despite his blinding speed, but that quickly changed to a fevered irregular tempo.

Hands were everywhere. Sweating was slicking every part of our bodies. My hair was in my face, obscuring my eyesight even worse than the tunnel vision I felt building as I got closer and closer to release. Every single one of my nerve endings was alight and crackling with electricity. It was both cumulative and singular: made up of many little sensations but still one complete feeling.

My SOUL rattled angrily against my chest, matching Sans’s erratic pace.

“Can’t hold on—” I warned as I felt the coil of pressure in my gut reaching its limit. Sans nodded, grin strained but wicked. Him too. He didn’t need to say it.

I finally came, the walls of my core clenching down on Sans and giving him the final push he needed as well. In the end, the bright blue cock made up of literal magic was only the second strangest, most wonderful, sensation I’d feel that night. Because Sans emptying himself into me beat it out.

Fuck, and now _I_ was beat.

Every part of my body and my being, mind and SOUL included, was exhausted and spent. And I could feel a sharp, prickling soreness already seeping into my muscles.

Worth it. Absolutely worth it.

Worth whatever pain or stiffness tomorrow brought.

Worth anything.

With a final kiss, Sans lowered his head down against my chest and his magic dissipated from within me.

I had never felt emptier.

Well, almost never. There was that one time I’d touched my SOUL and had that flash of memory. I thought I’d experienced something similar when I saw the moonlight reflecting on Sans’s face, but that… was more like it reminded me of something, which seemed different. But also very similar?

I don’t know. Is now really the time to think about it?

…Maybe it was. My SOUL gave one final squeeze as Sans’s eyes connected with mine and he smiled sweetly up at me. And it thought one more final thought—

_I’ve found you. How I’ve missed you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO! Never got to post about this, since this fic went on hiatus before I implemented it, but I've got a tumblr! I repost chapters and upload neat supplementary stuff (like Teagan's concept images).  
> Link: https://alien-ariel7.tumblr.com/
> 
> Come say hey!


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